head in the clouds
by potterywheel
Summary: [OC x Mori] Sometimes I sit, awake, and listen to the scraps of some nightlife escapade beyond the looking glass. My heart beats steady in an orchestrated sequence of beeps, tugging red and blue lines to its whims.
1. head in the clouds

_head in the clouds_

* * *

The first dawn is always the prettiest. Precious, too – you'd miss it if you looked away for just a second. The sky sifts between bruising splatters of blue-black, grey and purple. And all the buildings, dotted yellow or white, scatter; the golden city, glittering and glamorous, comes alive to the yawns of traffic. Before you know it, time's skipped out of your hands, and the clock is set for seven.

I like looking at the sunrise. Sometimes I sit, awake, and listen to the scraps of some nightlife escapade beyond the looking glass. My heart beats steady in an orchestrated sequence of beeps, tugging red and blue lines to its whims.

Today is no different. I'm going back to school today, and for the first time, I almost miss the sight of the city. It never disappoints, the skyline. There've been new additions over the years, like that huge Ootori Holdings' skyscraper, or that Mitsuha Electronics'…

"All packed up, Yuu?" Mom calls from the doorway.

I grin. "Yeah."

My mom's one of those people who ages with so much grace – you'd never think she's a day over thirty. As she paces over, hands worrying together, I lift my duffel bag up and onto the bed. It's… heavier than I'd expected. She places a hand over mine, and I grin immediately to displace any strain I might have felt.

"Yuu, you know I'm behind you no matter what," Mom says, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. "And that means _anything_."

I know, and I can't help noticing the crease between her brows. "And by _anything_ , you 're really talking about not going to school, right?"

"Kind of, yes," she chuckles, hand cupping my cheek. "Look at you. You're so big already. Just yesterday you were at my waist, begging not to-"

"Mom!" I say, embarrassed. "That's like, at least a decade ago."

Something in her eyes softens, and as I reach up to cover her hand, I realise just how many calluses and wrinkles have formed on her fingers. My mom may look as though she'd rather attend tea ceremonies or violin concerts, but there's no denying how hard she's worked – and for so long too. I only wish I were stronger, somehow, to carry that part of the burden.

So I do what I do best in my position; I let her coddle me, play the part of an average teenager, sidle up to her side and alleviate any fears of her child slipping away from her. I think we don't do that enough, as children, to play the part of children.

"Alright, alright," she coos, pinching both of my cheeks. "Now, let's sign out before we're late."

As if on cue, Chauffer Yin knocks on the door and enters. He bows, even though we've been telling him for years not to. A quick glance, and I'm immediately struck by the hunch in his spine, and the way he's favouring his left leg. Has everyone aged so quickly already?

"I'll carry your bag, Yuu- _sama_ ," Chauffer Yin says with a kind smile, aiming to reassure.

I nod, returning the smile. "Thank you, Chauffer Yin."

I let him take the bag, and hook my arm around Mom's. She turns to me, eyes bright with girlish excitement. That's the same girl from the family photographs I've mulled over.

"Aren't you excited, Yuu?" Mom teeters, "Ouran High School! Gosh, it's been so long since I've last been there."

"You have to tell me more about it," I say, infected by her cheery mood.

There's an unusual lilt in my steps today, for reasons more than one.

* * *

I've seen the photographs, sure, and watched the condensed re-enactment of Mom's blooming youth in the span of an hour, but nothing could have prepared me for this. Ouran High School is huge. Gorgeous, too. Even before reaching the roundabout, the line of sakura trees and artfully located statutes are significant in demonstrating its careless grandeur.

"I can't believe they kept that," Mom says, pointing at a tastefully poised sheep statute.

I laugh. "Was it a donation?"

She shrugs nonchalantly, but as she turns to face me, winks. "Or a delivery gone wrong."

That's just Mom for you – a wild child, set loose on the sacred grounds of propriety. I turn back to my side of the window, watching as we slowly pull up to the sheltered halls of Ouran High School. I'm not sure why, but watching everything, from marbled walkways to stained glass ceilings, materialise in front of me… I'm suddenly gripped by a sinking feeling in my chest.

It's all real, now. I'm finally here. And it's gorgeous, the school, really. The way the light flickers through painted glass and scatters generously, illuminating the halls in soft pink hues. Everything's amazing.

So why do I suddenly feel so apprehensive?

Mom has the same question. "Yuu?"

I take a deep breath. "Yeah."

"It's alright," Mom says, voice soothing. She takes my cold hands in hers. "Do you want to do this?"

I look into her face, searching. "Yeah. I do."

Saying it relieves some of the weight that's on my shoulders. Her look turns fond.

"Let's head out together," she says, reaching out to straighten my collars. "You've got my looks, my charms, and your father's wits. If anything, Ouran should be terrified of you."

I take another deep breath. "Like that sheep out there?"

"Plausible deniability," she says stonily, a huge contrast to the mischief playing on her lips.

We laugh, and step out of the car. Mom doesn't stay for long, after making sure that I'm settled with my briefcase and schedule. Before I head for class, she hands me a short tube.

"Lipstick?" I say, unfurling the lavender handkerchief.

She opens the golden tube to reveal a bright red bullet. "Yours to wield. Your father got me this for our very first date."

"Really?" I ask, incredulous.

She pauses. "Well. Not exactly."

"So did he?" I say, before changing my mind. "Tell me tonight, when I get home for dinner."

She pats my head, exhaling gently. "Alright then. I'll see you at dinner."

I wait till she leaves with Chauffer Yin, and walk up the carpeted stairs to East Wing. With every step I take, the murmurs of everyday school-life reaches my ears. The scraping of chairs on floors, girls giggling in between low mutters, the occasional holler, chalk on blackboard. They're a stranger to me, but not for long. I think of the golden lipstick tube nestled in my pocket, of the strange sheep statute out on the lawn, and grin.

Class 2A is just a few steps away. As I reach the doors, I find the homeroom teacher, Kurosawa- _sensei_ , already taking attendance. She glances up, just as I'm about to knock, and smiles. I wait.

"Yoshimoto Karui," she calls.

"Here," a small timid voice replies.

"Alright, everyone, before we begin today, I'd like to introduce you to a new student," Kurosawa- _sensei_ says. "Nakahara Yuuka, please come here."

I straighten my back and walk over, channelling my Mom. It seems to work, ever so infinitesimally. She smiles at me, as I pick up a piece of chalk and begin to write my name down. Now, while I write my name down all the time for forms, I've never really done it with chalk. Hoping that I'm not taking too long with the unusual surface and grip, I finish the last strokes for 'flower' and place the chalk back down.

Looks fine to me.

"Good morning, I'm Nakahara Yuuka. Please take care of me," I say, eyes sweeping over unfamiliar, politely-disinterested faces, and bow.

My family name certainly does not ring a bell to anyone – Nakahara Industries, while coping well, is barely making huge profits like Ootori Holdings. It's what comes with practicing fair trade and sustainability for everyday wear, though there are certainly other costs. As I rise to my normal height, I catch the eye of a familiar-looking boy in the middle – two, actually – with neatly parted hair and black-rimmed glasses. The other next to him is grinning charmingly at me. I return the gesture with a nod.

Kurosawa- _sensei_ assigns me to a seat by the door with practiced nonchalance. When I get to my seat, the girl beside me scoots over and offers a hand.

"Hey, Nakahara- _san_ , I'm Kobayashi Hana. Nice to meet you!" she grins.

I take her hand. "A pleasure, too. You can call me by my first name."

"Then Hana's fine!" she says, a little too loudly, and Kurosawa- _sensei_ shoots us a blithering look.

Hana smiles apologetically, hand up in fake salute. Kurosawa- _sensei_ shakes her head and returns to doling out instructions for the week. There's an international business conference on Wednesday at the West Wing's auditorium, semi-finals for a moot on Friday, and on a lighter note, a special tea ceremony on Saturday. She closes her file and raises a brow, daring anyone to raise a question.

No one does, and so Kurosawa- _sensei_ leaves the classroom. At the door, she calls out to me.

"Nakahara- _san_ , meet me in the office after your day is done. North Wing, 24601."

I nod, before pulling my file out to check my schedule. Before I can lift the paper out, Hana's already dragged her chair to my desk, along with several other students.

"Yuuka- _chan_!" Hana says, and then noting the paper, continues, "Japanese History doesn't start until ten minutes later. We have little breaks in between classes, see?"

"I see," I say, raising my gaze over to the other students. "And you might be?"

The tallest pipes up, voice surprisingly husky, "I'm Yamada Aoi of Yamada Motor Enterprises."

"I'm Tanaka Hajime, traditional carpentry," a shorter boy with a sturdy-looking face says.

"I'm Mitsuha Sora," the last girl says with a bow, and I immediately recognise her family name. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," I say. "You can call me as Hana- _chan_ does."

A few more have gathered around us, but before they can introduce themselves, Aoi speaks up again.

"So, what does your family do?"

I smile and say, "We're in the green trade. Sustainable fashion, interior design, and hoping to expand to packaging by the end of the quarter."

"Where were you before coming to Ouran, Yuuka- _san_?" Hajime asks, as the others nod thoughtfully.

"I was home-schooled," I say gently. "I've always had a weaker constitution, so my mom wanted to take care of me."

"I was home-schooled too, until two years ago!" Hana chips in. "But that was because we were travelling so much. Did you travel around, Yuuka- _chan?"_

I shake my head. "Not so much. I'd like to hear about the places you went to, though."

A few of the others begin to talk, making small talk about the difference between being home-schooled and entering an institution. Someone asks about my father, and another asks if I have any pets or siblings. I shake my head no for both questions. As the chatter continues, I begin to feel more at ease, especially with Hana perking up at irregular intervals to chime in. Her innocent joy reminds me so much of Mom.

"Are you planning on joining any clubs, Yuuka- _chan_?" Sora, who's been silent up till now, asks softly.

As she speaks, everyone falls quiet. I consider her question.

"I'm not too sure," I say, meeting her eyes.

"Oh, I can show you around!" Hana says cheerfully. "There's the track and field, the flower arrangement, the orchestra, the –"

"Hana- _chan_ 's in every one of them," Sora says, mirthful.

Hana pouts. "Not the Host Club."

"The Host Club?"

Aoi begins to flush furiously, and Hajime groans.

"Oh, Kyoya- _san_ and Tamaki- _san_ over there –" Hana gestures towards the boys from earlier – the blonde now despondent and the black-haired one indifferent "– they're part of the Host Club."

I raise a brow. "So they… host events."

"Nah," Hajime says. "They're Hosts. They host customers."

I must still be looking confused, because Hana assures me that that's the first stop we're making today after class.

* * *

Hana makes good on her promise, striding purposefully with me in tow. We must be a little late, because everyone's already well settled at various tables. There's an overwhelming ratio of ladies to gentlemen at each table, and the picture that Hajime had crudely painted for me begins to take a form.

"Hana- _hime!_ " a booming baritone sends tremors up the wall. "You're finally back!"

Before I know it, there's a smattering of rose petals and a suave figure leaning beside Hana. That's the blonde boy from class. He produces a red rose, which Hana accepts.

"Were you unable to resist my charming wiles?" He intones seductively. "Or was it my beautiful gaze that had you ensnared?"

Hana grins. "Tamaki- _sama_! Papa thought you were brilliant at the studio last week! Are you sure you're really uninterested in acting on the big screen?"

"Alas!" Tamaki says emphatically, a hand drawn to his forehead. "It is a blessing and a curse – while there are so many more princesses out there awaiting my love, I do owe a duty to our current royalty."

At that, he twirls over to me with a rose in his hand. "My love, forgive me for the delayed greeting."

"Pleasure," I say, smiling.

"Good afternoon, Hana- _hime_ , Yuuka- _hime,"_ the other boy from class greets, legs gliding in perfect strides towards us.

"Kyoya- _san_!" Hana chirps. "Please do consider Papa's offer of a short film. We really did enjoy Tamaki- _sama_ and the twins last week."

Kyoya places a hand on his chest and bows. "You are far too kind. I will talk to the club about this this evening."

"Great!" Hana grins. "Oh, right, as you know, Yuuka- _chan_ is new. Would you mind introducing her to the Host Club?"

"Of course, it would be my honour," Kyoya says, as Hana giddily follows Tamaki, praises gliding from both of their lips. "I believe Hana- _hime_ will be covering your designation costs this afternoon. Every session is a third of an hour's, with complimentary tea and cake. You may opt for any host you like.

"We have, as you've been introduced, our romantic King, Tamaki _-sama_ ; the devilish type – the Hitachiin twins; the refreshingly natural type, Haruhi- _kun_ ; the cute type, Hani- _senpai_ , and by his side, the wild type, Mori- _senpai_. And of course, the cool type, yours truly."

I glance around the room, watching as every Host went about their business. One thing did strike me as peculiar.

"Wild type?" I echo, eyes trailing and landing on a stoic figure.

If I were slower, I would not have caught the smirk on Kyoya's face.

"Mori- _senpai_ , the wild type," Kyoya repeats, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "Would you like to find out?"

"Sure," I say, eyes flitting over to Hani and the rapidly vanishing cake on the trolley beside him. "Please do."

"Your wish is my command," Kyoya says, a persuasive smile dancing on his lips.

I won't lie, Kyoya reminds me a little of a cat. A sly, graceful creature with its calculated risks and choreographed moves. Trying to keep my nerves in check, I walked over to where Mori and Hani were. The squeals escalated as Hani began toying around with a big plush bunny.

Mori looked up as I neared, eyes level and calm.

"Good afternoon, Mori- _senpai_ , I'm Nakahara Yuuka, and I've designated you as my host," I say, nodding to Hani as well. "Hani- _senpai_ , it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Yuu- _chan_!" Hani exclaims, waving his bunny's arms. "This is Usa- _chan_!"

I take a seat, just as a girl wavers and faints. "Hello, Usa- _chan_. Is she alright?"

"Ah! Ya- _chan_! Are you alright?" Hani immediately jumps to her aid.

'Ya-chan', barely coming out of her fainting spell, blushes a bright shade of red. "I-I-I- I'm fine, Hani- _senpai_!"

"That's great," Hani says cheerfully. "Let's have some cake! It'll help you feel better!"

The other girls begin tittering as Hani lifts each plate from the trolley and sets it down before them. Mori begins refilling their tea, manner in that same unruffled composure. The cakes must cost quite a fair bit, I think.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Hani- _senpai_ , I'm afraid I can't have any cake today," I say, as he reaches for the fifth plate. "Doctor's orders."

His bottom lip begins to quiver, and before I know it, his eyes are wide and glassy with tears. He pauses, and at the same moment, a shadow is cast over Usa's plushy face too.

"Mitsukuni," Mori suddenly says, voice deeper than I'd imagined. "Doctor's orders."

Hani frowns. "That's too bad. But when your doctor says it's okay, you have to eat cake with me, okay?"

I can't say no to a face like that, so I smile. "Of course."

"It's a promise then!" Hani says, gaze falling back to his clients. "Let's eat then!"

The girls daintily take a hold of their plates and cut their slices into more manageable pieces. In the meantime, Hani's already scarfed down his portion. Mori takes another sip of his tea.

"You're not having cake, Mori- _senpai_?" I ask.

Mori shakes his head, as Hani interjects, "Takashi doesn't like sweet things!"

I nod, relaxing back in my seat. Somewhere to the left, there's a sudden flurry of movement, then a rising wail of squeals. It ends just as rapidly as it starts, falling into bated silence. The Hitachiin twins' mop of red hair can barely be seen over the gathering of students. Even Tamaki, who's playing host to a few ten students, has turned in his seat to stare.

As he begins to gape, a girl reaches his table. She's poised, hands clasped in front of her, and apparently able to inspire quite a bit of fear as Tamaki's other customers scurry off. After clearing her throat, Tamaki swivels back, and resumes his artful flattery.

I turn back to Mori, wondering about Kyoya's words. He's wiping cake off Hani's cheek with the care and precision of a focused mother. Fingers, though rough and callused even from where I'm seated, are gently dabbing at Hani's cheek. As he sits back, his shoulders fall casually back – posture so perfect, my orthopaedist would have gone to his local shrine to offer his family heirloom. All of that, and a neatly cropped hairstyle…

Mori turns to look at me, a collected gaze and relaxed jaw. I hold his gaze, noting the imperceptible rise and fall of his shoulders, the easy way he navigates an interaction. This man comes from old money. Disciplined. Caring. Athletic, I would hazard a guess.

"Mori- _senpai_ ," I pipe up.

"Hm?"

"Earlier, Kyoya- _san_ mentioned that you're a wild type," I preamble. "I'm afraid I don't understand."

He inclines his head, breaking eye contact for a moment, before resuming it. Quiet. A man of decidedly few words. I look down to his hands again, where veins and joints are clearly defined. The hollow curve between his thumb and forefinger callused. And then up to his neck – no bruises, an even tan above the collar and at his hands.

"Do you, by any chance, do judo?" I say, and then, realising how rudely I've been staring, glance away. "I'm sorry, I was curious."

He shakes his head. "Kendo."

Wordlessly, he holds his palms out to me, showing signs of having gripped something for long hours.

"May I?"

Mori doesn't answer, but his hands remain where they are, hovering between us. I reach out, tentative, and smile sheepishly. His hands are much warmer than mine are, and I mutter an apology. They're rough, but strong, and as I look at them, I begin to quip,

"You know, I've done some palm reading before."

"Ah."

Remembering the days I'd hold other children 'captive' and distract them by telling them tales of their future exploits, I begin to grin. "Would you like me to tell you yours?"

"Mm."

I'd take that as an affirmative, then. Mori's even gaze confirms it. Squinting, I line his palms up. A straight line right across the middle, every other line evenly symmetrical save for an additional knotted one on his left.

"So, you're a lucky one," I preface, leaning in like I'm telling a secret. "You've got good hands, see – a straight line across both palms here, that shows that you're reliable and steady. Even the roughest of storms won't ruffle you.

"And see, here," I trace the sloping line between his thumb and forefinger. "It looks like a braid, right? That's a good sign that you'll be together with the ones you love for a long, long time. And this one on your left hand, doesn't it kind of look like a smiley face?"

I'm pushing it a little at this point, but Mori doesn't seem to mind. "That means you're going to be happy. See, I'm a good palm reader."

As I pull away, Mori looks down at his own hands.

"Yours," he says.

I hold mine out, and he waits for me patiently. It takes a few moments before I realise-

"You want me to read my own fortune?" I say.

Mori nods.

I pause, then look down at my own hands. There are several nicks and cuts from various sorts of papers, as well as other insignificant scars. But my palms are pale and smooth. Mori's still waiting, eyes boring into mine when I look up.

(I think my heart might have skipped a beat there.)

"Well," I begin, chewing on my bottom lip. "I've got a curved line. It means I'm going to make people happy by handing them their smiles."

The cheesy line, as I'd expected, does not work on Mori. He continues listening, and for the first time, I realise just how someone can look like they're listening so intently.

"And I've also got the crosses here, which means," I consider my next few words carefully, "I'll meet a lot of new friends here."

"Like me and Takashi!" Hani chimes in, and I realise that he's right by Mori.

The other girls have already left – marking the end of a session.

I smile, and nod. "Like you and Mori- _senpai._ "

* * *

"So tell me everything!" Mom shouts from the kitchen. "How was school today? Do you want to go back tomorrow? Did you make any friends? Joined any clubs?"

I laugh, rubbing at my shoulders. Hana had dragged me off to archery after my initial taste of the Host Club, and then to flower arrangement. "It was good."

Mom brings a pot of curry out and sets it on the table. "Just good?"

I place our cutlery, balancing the chopsticks on the bowl. "I had fun today."

"Nope," Mom says, bringing out the rice too. "Not good enough. I want to know _everything_!"

"Okay," I say, placing my hands together. "Let's eat."

"Let's eat," Mom repeats. "Now, dish it out!"

"Alright, alright," I say, grinning over the steaming pot. "I had classes today, and they were manageable. It was a good idea to have Maki- _sensei_ go over world history for our last few lessons – we covered it a little in Japanese History.

"I made a few friends, like Kobayashi Hana –"

"–Oh, her father's a client–"

"–Tanaka Hajime, Yamada Aoi, Mitsuha Sora, Ootori Kyoya–"

"–Mitsuha and Ootori?!" Mom's placed her chopsticks down.

"–Morinozuka Takashi, Haninozuka Mitsukuni, Suoh Tamaki…" I close my eyes and try to think of the other names I'd been acquainted with. "I didn't quite meet them, but do you know of the Hitachiin twins, and Fujioka Haruhi?"

Mom looks over at me, a small smile on her lips. "Not too sure about the last one, but I'm glad you've made friends!"

I pick up a potato cube and place it in my bowl. "They're all famous, aren't they?"

"Ridiculously," she says, "if you're subscribed to the weekly Businessman's Gossip Channel."

"And _you_ 're not on their radar?" I tease.

Mom laughs, waving that away. "We're _just_ comfortable, Yuu."

Faking a gasp, I pick up a carrot. "And all this time I thought I was living in the lap of luxury!"

Mom shakes her head. We eat in comfortable silence for the next few moments.

"So did you enjoy yourself?"

I think about it for a moment. "I did. Hana- _chan_ showed me around the Host Club, archery club and flower arrangements. She's a very cheerful girl."

"I'm sure she is," Mom says, eyes curving into crescents. "I'm really glad you're having a good time, Yuu."

I grin, thinking back to all the weird shenanigans we got up to in flower arrangement, and nod. Mom places another carrot in my bowl, urging me to eat more.

After doing the dishes, I retire to my room to start on homework. It's in the same muted pink from when I was in elementary school, well-dusted and untouched. As though time had stopped. But with my yellow Ouran uniform hanging on the closet door, there's a strange sense of renewal. I can't stop thinking about school, and all the snippets of hilarity.

"I'm home," I whisper, childishly, giddily.

For the first time in a while, I think I might be able to sleep well tonight.

* * *

 **AN:** I hope you enjoyed! Please do leave a review - especially if you can figure out the premise of the story hehe.


	2. got my gravity centered

**AN:** Hammered out another chapter - lots of vaguely dubious physics/philosophy talk in this, please don't come after my head haha.

 _Guest 1:_ I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter! Nope, as 'exciting' as that premise might be, it's not - Yuuka has her mother, who loves her a lot! Perhaps this chapter would shed more light on the premise... I hope you keep reading on, and thank you for leaving a comment :)

 _Guest 2:_ Thank you for your review! I, too, look forward to your next comment ;)

 _intomiddle3arth:_ Ooh, welcome to the OHSHC fandom! I'm glad you're excited - I'm excited for you too!

* * *

 _got my gravity centered_

* * *

School is a flurry of workbooks and hasty scrawls, grasping at straws between every logical leap and hapless faith. I'm no exception, and flipping through my notes I find some of my own writing to be almost illegible. As Hirose- _sensei_ comes to a halt, he juts his chin out and lets his hawk-like gaze run across the entire room. As if he's challenging anyone to speak up.

There's a question mark I made on my page – and as I squint to decipher my messy penmanship, the question comes hurtling to the forefront of my mind.

"Hirose- _sensei_ ," I call, raising my hand,

as Kyoya does too.

I jump, turning to look at him. He nods, and gestures for me to speak first.

"Yes, Nakahara- _kun_?" Hirose- _sensei_ asks in his rumbly, deep voice.

Suddenly, everyone's looking at me. Well, here goes – fingers curling around the table leg, I stare resolutely at the blackboard behind Hirose- _sensei_ 's cutting figure.

"Earlier, you mentioned that the- the, um, I mean, everything in nature can be explained, or formed with equations," I say, eyes dropping to my page. I can barely see the right words.

"That is Newton's determinism simply put, yes," Hirose- _sensei_ says. Someone snickers, or coughs, at the back.

"And if everything can be determined by equations, then –"

"–what becomes of free will?" Hirose- _sensei_ finishes, lazily raising a brow.

"No," I start, before he turns to the blackboard. "I meant to ask something else."

Hirose- _sensei_ pauses, mid-turn, and raises a brow.

"If everything can be determined by equations, then," I continue, "then there must be an equation for the future. And even if no one were smart enough to figure out the math, the equation must exist."

Hirose- _sensei_ continues staring at me, before sharply turning to the blackboard. He jots something down – "NEWTON + X = FUTURE" – and whirls around to face the class.

"Newton's laws of motions radically changed the way we perceived the world. If everything, from the largest planets to the smallest cells of our brains, marched to the tune of Newton's laws, we would be running on a hamster wheel to the sound of our own demise," Hirose- _sensei_ drawls.

"But we've got something more. The equation changes. Clocks tick on. The future is always shifting. The question now," he pauses, not without a dramatic effect, "is what exactly X is."

He focuses a lazy eye on me, smiling not unkindly. I breathe in clumsily, and raise my hand for the second, heavy time in class.

"Yes, Nakahara- _kun_?"

My hand sinks to the safety of my skirts. "Attraction."

Hirose- _sensei_ quirks a brow, leaning forward against the podium on his desk. "Explain."

"The attraction Newton left out," I say, "and the one Einstein rediscovered."

Hirose- _sensei_ forms a steeple with his hands, pressing them against his nose. It's so silent, you can almost hear a pin drop. Hana's pencil clatters to the ground, and she picks it up apologetically.

In the background, there's the ringing of the period bell. Nobody moves.

"Free will, a thousand, due next Monday," Hirose- _sensei_ finally says, eyes calmly evaluating my entire existence. "Ootori- _kun_ , I'm afraid you'll have to save the question for a later date. Dismissed."

He packs his things, efficiently sorting papers into a binder, and striding out of class. My mind's still whirling in tandem with the cesspool in my stomach. Hana scoots over, face contorted in varying shapes of disbelief.

"What was _that_ , Yuuka- _chan_?" she says, gripping at the edges of her chair.

Even Sora's walked over. "What do you mean by attraction?"

"No, no, no, you lost me at the equations bit," Hana says, waving Sora's query away.

I point at the only legible section of my notes. "Hirose- _sensei_ talked about how Newton's laws of motion described how things moved, right?"

"Uh, yeah."

"And so if everything is pre-determined by equations, it makes sense that there must also be an equation to determine the future," I continue. "It's like someone wrote the code for a programme, and we're only on the fifth line. There's more of it for the sixth, seventh, eighth, and so on."

"Huh. But what about free will?" Hana asks. " _Sensei_ talked about free will."

"There's no such thing as free will," I say. "Not in Newton's determinism."

Hana frowns. "That's stupid."

"Not entirely," Sora says, catching the worst of Hana's glare. "Well, maybe."

Hana shakes the entire conversation off, lets it slide like water off a duck. "But anyway, I've never seen anyone shut Hirose- _sensei_ up like that! Well, at least until the bell rang. And then he had to give us homework too!"

I shake my head, "I think I might have overstepped something…"

In front of us, Kyoya and Tamaki exit the classroom, surrounded by a flock of bantering girls. It happens for a split second, and I think I might have imagined it – Kyoya's head tilting at the smallest angle possible, eyes flicking to meet mine. And then he's arrested in conversation again, snippets of Newton's laws and order muttered like sweet nothings with Tamaki's baritone.

"It's not your fault, Yuuka- _chan_ ," Hana says. "Hirose- _sensei_ usually gives us an essay to write after every class."

Hana slumps back on her desk, almost pushing her bottle off it. "This is why I hate inquiry."

"There, there," I say, reaching over to pat her shoulder.

"Let's go get lunch, shall we?" Sora offers.

Hana jumps up. "Oh right! Lunch! Hey, Aoi, Hajime, you guys eating?"

Hajime strolls over, hands in his pockets and armed with a cheeky grin. Aoi clatters behind him, a bento in his hands. I pull mine out, and rise to my feet.

"That was some good shit, Nakahara," Hajime teases, punching me on the arm. "Even if it flew right over my head."

I laugh. "Thanks, Tanaka."

"Unstoppable force meets immovable object," Hana notes, leading the way. "Hirose- _sensei_ is too smart for all of us. Except Yuuka- _chan_ and Sora- _chan._ "

"No one really dares to ask any questions in his class," Aoi says softly, adjusting his stride to keep up. "Except Ootori- _san_."

"Kyouya- _san_ is top of the class and level," Hana says.

"I wonder what he wanted to ask," I say, cradling my lunch.

"Something real smart probably," Hajime snorts.

"You packed your own bento again, Yuuka- _chan_?" Hana says, eyes trained on my wrapped lunch.

"Yeah, I can't get used to the taste of the cafeteria food," I say.

We make a turn at the swan statute and reach the grand dining hall. Aoi and I begin to scout for a good place to sit, while the others went ahead to order their lunch. Despite being a rather tall and lanky person, Aoi keeps his gait small and restricted, as though he's afraid of swinging into someone on accident.

"How about this table?"

Aoi immediately starts shaking his head. "Not here – the Host Club sits here."

Catching my eye, Aoi tilts his head towards the dark, pointed stares directed at us. It's strange, indeed, how this particular bench is empty while its surroundings are crowded with an eerie sense of anticipation.

"Yuu- _chan_!" someone calls. It's Hani, perched on Mori's shoulders. What a strange angle to be looking at him from. "Are you joining us for lunch?"

I shake my head, feeling the tell-tale signs of a shrivelling Aoi behind me. "I'm afraid not, Hani- _senpai_. We're just about to leave."

"Oh," Hani says, frowning. "We could make space for you-!"

"That's alright, Hani- _senpai_ ," I say, "our friends are probably waiting for us."

"Ah, I see! Will you be coming to the Host Club again today?" Hani perks up, somersaulting off Mori's shoulders, and glancing around my waist. "And Aoi- _chan_!"

Aoi shrinks into himself unhelpfully, the tip of his ears going dangerously red. "Um, I-"

"Aoi- _kun_ might have club activities later, but I'll be there," I say, smiling. "We'll see you around, Hani- _senpai_ , Mori- _senpai_."

"Yes." Mori nods. "Mitsukuni, the soup."

Hani jolts, and hurriedly settles at his seat, and we make our way to another bench by the pillar.

"So- how were the clubs yesterday?" Aoi suddenly says, fingers smoothly untying the knot on his bento. "I heard you guys went to the… _HostClubandarchery_."

"And flower arrangement," I add. "It was pretty interesting – though my shoulders hurt now, ha."

Aoi nods, falling silent once more. He looks tense, though, like there's something he wants to ask. As I lean in to inquire, however, the aromatic scent of roses and other floral concoctions washes over me. Aoi's eyes widen, and he flushes furiously. It's the Host Club, draped artistically all over a single member, light pouring like a halo around their poised limbs. There's a faint thud, and I realise someone else has fainted again.

"You could always come with us," I say, watching Aoi from the periphery.

"What?"

"I'm sure Hana- _chan_ wouldn't mind your company at the Host Club this afternoon," I say, adding a most reassuring smile. "I don't."

Aoi doesn't relax, brows scrunching up instead. The lines of his shoulders are taut, and his gaze glassed over.

"Aoi- _kun_?"

"No," he snaps, breathes out heavily, and shoots out of his seat. "I- I'm going, I remembered something I had to do."

Clumsily, Aoi folds the handkerchief over his lunchbox, and leaves the dining hall in a matter of seconds. Alone, I sit, stunned. _I- Did I do something wrong? I thought I was reading things right._

I should go after him. When I turn, I find Mori looking over in our general direction. Catching his eye, I nod. He returns the nod after a brief second, and returns to caring for Hani.

"Yuuka- _chan_?" Hana says, placing her tray down. "Where did Aoi go?"

"He left suddenly – I need to find him," I say.

Sora places a hand on my arm. "What happened?"

"I was asking him to come to the Host Club, and he," I pause. "Does Aoi- _kun_ not like the Host Club?"

Hana glances at Sora, hesitation obvious. I must really have done something wrong – the Host Club must be some sore spot for Aoi. And in my flippant carelessness, I'd assumed things. How do I make this right again?

"Let him be," Sora says finally.

"Where would he have gone?" I say.

Hana takes my worrying fingers into her hands. "Aoi needs a bit of time alone – he's probably in the garden. Let's just have lunch first."

"Did I say something wrong about the Host Club?"

Hana sighs. "Well, it's not like you meant anything, Yuuka- _chan_. Aoi just doesn't… he'll come to the Host Club when he's ready to."

Reading between the lines, what Hana's really saying is that there's something stopping Aoi from going to the Host Club. I frown. There must be something I can do – I've seen the way Aoi flushes whenever we talk about the Host Club.

"I'm going to apologise," I say, wrapping my bento neatly. "You guys go ahead first."

Before either of them can say anything, I rush out of the dining hall. Hana said Aoi would be in the garden. That would have to be on the ground floor. I'm not very good at directions, but I'm sure I'll get by. Remembering the bizarre statutes scattered around the staircases, I make my way down to the foyer.

"No, Toru!" someone yells bitterly.

The target of her anger recoils – a boy with downcast eyes – and flinches. Pulling away, I press myself against the wall and wonder how exactly I should attempt to navigate a path to the gardens.

"You don't understand anything," the same voice says, her pitch a notch lower. "It's never – you know what, never mind. I have to get back to class."

"Kana-"

"Don't," she says weakly. "Don't call me that."

Toru apparently says nothing, because the next thing I hear is the clutter of heels against marble tiles, and a resigned sigh. The girl in question passes by me in a huff, fists rubbing at her hidden face. Her shoulder-length bob sways aggressively as she hastens to reach the end of the hallway. After a few seconds, I attempt to leave as stealthy as possible, but that fails as soon as my own heels click against the floors.

"Who's there," Toru stammers.

I turn, and smile sheepishly. "I'm sorry. It's Nakahara Yuuka from 2A."

Toru blinks, then scratches his head. "Well, I should be apologising instead for making a scene in the middle of the school."

"If it's of any comfort, I was only here for the past minute," I say.

He walks over and extends a hand. "Suzushima Toru, of Suzushima Tea Limited. Class 2C."

"Pleasure," I say. "Even if it's not the best of days."

"No, it's," Toru pauses, and chuckles. "Yeah, you're right."

"Suzushima- _kun,_ sorry to bother you, but do you know where the gardens might be?" I ask, remembering my original mission.

Toru nods. "Toru is fine. Do you mean the rose gardens or the greenhouse?"

"Where are they?"

"The rose gardens are just outside the South Wing – follow this corridor," he gestures at a hallway filled with sunflower paintings. "And make the right turn. You'll find them ahead, beyond the doors. The greenhouse is right above the second years' classroom block."

"I see," I say, and bow. "Thank you."

Toru smiles, and bows back. "You're welcome."

He glances over my shoulder, presumably at the way Kana had left, and suppresses a sigh. Poor guy. It really sounded as though Kana hadn't wanted to say all that. But then again, I had only a minute's insight into their relationship. There was a bigger picture to account for.

And for now, I had to look for Aoi. I make my way to the rose garden first, following Toru's instructions. The final hallway concluded with a beautifully carved door – mahogany carvings lining the frame of the doors, depicting delicate petals mid-air and vines elegantly weaving into a wave at the bottom. The golden and red lacquer were well-maintained. Pushing the doors open, the tall hedges of a maze loomed over me.

There was no way I could find Aoi in time here, not when I had no idea how deep the maze ran.

"Aoi- _kun_!" I shouted, as loudly as I could, and immediately felt the first pangs of effort in my lungs. "Aoi- _kun_! Are you in there?"

Hand holding onto the door, I breathed in and out sharply. There was still at least a third of an hour's left before class started once more. I still had some time.

Readying myself, I ambled into the entrance of the maze.

* * *

I couldn't find Aoi in time. He'd returned to the classroom right before Ogino- _sensei_ entered, and left me with no opportunities to apologise. I press a hand to my temple, trying to displace the discomfort rolling around in my head. Seared guilt washed over me in waves of nausea. I tried to read the words on the blackboard, but came fumbling with nothing.

"You okay?" Hana whispered, eyes darting back to Ogino- _sensei_.

I push my bento under my desk. "Yes."

"You're really pale," Hana says, worry creeping into her voice.

I smile at her, fingers reaching the back of my neck and finding sweat pooling at my collar. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to go to the rooftop greenhouse as well. I turn as discreetly as possible, catching sight of Aoi as he's staring blankly out the window. My heart burns.

There's a distant clatter, and a numbness up my arms.

"Yuuka- _chan_!" Hana shouts, but it's all muffled. I can barely make out the words she continues to say as she stares over me.

My heart's going really fast. And then nothing.

* * *

When I come to, the first thing I see is a large expanse of whiteness. And then a pair of glasses.

"Ootori Kyoya," I say.

"At your service," he replies, and moves out of sight.

I laugh, but it comes out as a dry chortle. "Thank you. How long have I been out for?"

There's a shuffle, before he replies, "Just over ten minutes."

I sigh, wriggling my fingers to get some sensation back into them. Kyoya remains perfectly quiet, and the only residue in this sick bay is the scratching of pen against paper.

"I hope I didn't scare Hana- _chan_ ," I say, tilting my head slightly to look at him. "Or anyone else, really."

"You can reassure her when you feel better, Yuuka- _san_ ," he says politely. "Speaking of, does this happen regularly?"

I move to sit up, gripping the bed railings. Kyoya leans forward, a hand on my back, but I barely need the support. He sits back in his chair, observant and innocuous all the same.

"I'm anaemic," I explain, "so this does happen with startling frequency, I'm afraid."

"I see," he says.

"I go to your family's hospital," I supply. "The service is consistently efficient."

"We are relieved to hear that."

We fall back into silence once more. The thumping in my ears has subsided, and I find myself a glass of water on the bedside table.

"Kyoya- _san_ , I briefly remember you had a question to ask during Hirose- _sensei_ 's class earlier," I say. "Would you mind telling me what it was?"

Kyoya smiles. "Hirose- _sensei_ foreshadowed it with his essay assignment, I believe."

"Free will?"

"Yes," he says. "And on that note, I found your question very interesting: an equation for the future, distorted by gravity and love. It's certainly refreshing."

"You flatter me," I say. "People fall in love carelessly all the time."

"You say that as if it were a bad thing," he counters, raising a brow.

"No, not necessarily – but you'd be better positioned to know that." I pause. "I've been wondering, actually, how did the Host Club come about?"

Kyoya lowers his head, hand rising to his chest. "The Host Club exists to ensure that every young maiden can feel beautiful and fall in love with this beauty every single day."

He's smiling, a small but genuine lilt. This club must be of greater importance to him than he lets on.

"And Mori- _senpai_ ," I blurt out, biting my lip.

Kyoya shoots me a knowing glance. Strangely, the coolness of my neck has been replaced by a sudden simmer. I exhale gently, focusing on the way my lungs fall back into place.

"I don't quite understand why he's the wild type," I say.

Kyoya tilts his head. "That is part of the mystery."

"Or why he's in the Host Club if he's already doing kendo," I continue.

At this, Kyoya chuckles. "I believe the two are not mutually exclusive."

"No; all's fair in love and war," I say. "Or as they say, the battle is waged both ways."

Kyoya laughs politely, as do I. At this, the bell rings, signalling the end of the period. Kyoya glances at his wristwatch subtly, a request to dismiss himself. An idea suddenly comes to mind.

"Do you entertain guests other than young maidens?" I ask.

Kyoya's smile turns sharp and practiced as he glances up at me. "We have no past precedents, but with Tamaki's larger-than-life heart, I suppose we might."

"You'll consider it?"

"We'll entertain the idea," Kyoya says. "Yuuka- _san_ , I'll be taking my leave first. If you feel better, do join us at the Host Club this afternoon."

I nod, as Kyoya gingerly excuses himself from the room. In his stead are a gentle breeze and an empty ward. I am used to the peace and stillness of an afternoon. With the space, I take my time, sifting through each thought as they colour, morph and waltz out of mind. Hana finds me staring out the windows at indecipherable trees and filtered light, and threatens to send me home.

"And yet we're in front of the music room again," I say.

Hana pouts. "You're a tough cookie, but I'm not letting you out of my sight!"

She falls into pace with me easily, and we push the doors open to find the Host Club in full swing once more. Already there's a whirlwind romance by the large windows, where Haruhi is being twirled by some patron, and Tamaki is withering on the floor. Hana immediately gasps.

"That's her! The Host-Hopping Kasugazaki!"

I look at where she's pointing, and pause. The same shoulder-length bob and posture. That's the girl from the foyer. She gently sets Haruhi down and pats his cheek. Happily, Kasugazaki slides into her seat and takes a cup of tea. With her back to us, I can't tell what face she's making.

"What do you mean Host-Hopping?" I ask, as we make our way to Mori and Hani's table.

Hana shoots Tamaki a sympathetic look. "Well, Kasugazaki- _san_ has only just been switching hosts all the time. Usually, when you pick a host, you kind of designate them for the rest of the year. But she monopolises each one at a time for a few weeks, and then moves on!"

"What's wrong with switching hosts?" I ask, then put my hands up, placating. "They're Hosts, right?"

She huffs. "Yeah, but you usually switch Hosts only if something's wrong. That's how host clubs work."

I nod to Mori and Hani. "Hello, Hani- _senpai_ , Mori- _senpai_."

"Yuu- _chan_!" Hani says, then turns to face Hana. "Hana- _chan_!"

"Hey, Hani- _senpai_ ," Hana greets listlessly. "There's got to be something we can do."

"You sound really invested in this," I note, watching Hana turn in her seat.

Hana frowns. "It's just that – "

There's a knock on the door, before it swings open to reveal Toru, carrying a crate with utmost care. His gaze flickers, and rests on Kasugazaki immediately. She's looking back at him, fingers curled painfully around the back of her chair.

"Suzushima- _kun_ ," Kyoya intercepts him smoothly.

"I've brought the teacups you ordered," Toru says, placing the box on a nearby table. .

"Ah, thank you," Kyoya says, walking over. "Every teacup you've chose has been a hit with the girls. It's very impressive."

"That's good to hear." Toru smiles, eyes trained on Kyoya's collar.

Haruhi rises from her chair and walks over to Toru. "Are you a dealer?"

"No," Toru says, caught off guard. He grins, and points to his own shirt. "I've got the same uniform as you – I'm just a regular student here."

As Haruhi nods, Kasugazaki forces a laugh. It's almost as grating as nails on chalkboard. Hana's frown deepens, and I realise that almost everyone in the club room is watching, waiting on bated breaths. Even Hani has stopped shovelling cake into his mouth and is leaning forward, on the edge of his seat.

"You're so funny, Haruhi- _kun_. But I can see why you'd be mistaken," she says coolly, turning back to her tea. "After all, he doesn't look like the heir to a first class corporation."

Toru's face falls so wholly that you can almost hear it shatter. A variety of emotions flicker past his face – first shock, then indignation, resignation and followed by numbed silence. He barely musters a smile as Kyoya begins explaining the Suzushima Tea Empire to Haruhi, rounding up with a praise.

"I- I should go," Toru says, forcing a smile on his face. It turns out wry and pained.

He swivels around, chest rising and falling with an effort at normalcy. Before he leaves, however, he catches sight of me. I raise my teacup and smile empathetically. But Toru only nods, swallowing the remnants of his pride, then exits the room. The door is closed gently, slowly, guided by a careful hand who knows it unfair to point the blame elsewhere. Kasugazaki stares into her own cup, drawing a desolate figure herself.

Feeling the heat of a gaze on the back of my head, I turn, and see Mori staring back. It's hard to decipher what his poker faces mean, but nothing he does is ever careless or by accident. At least, that's the feeling I get.

I place my cup down along with its saucer. "Do you know To- Suzushima- _kun_?"

Mori makes a noise that sounds like a negative. I can't shake it off, but some part of me knows that there's some unresolved tension that can easily be remedied by proper communication. It's extremely clear and disconcerting that neither of them – Toru and Kasugazaki both – can break out of their prides to talk.

"They were engaged," Hana says finally, voice low. "The son of a teacup empire and the daughter of shipping organisation – it was a match made in heaven. But now that Suzushima- _kun_ 's no longer on good terms with Kasugazaki- _san_ , they just never talk."

Hani pouts. "Kana- _chan_ looks sad, doesn't she, Takashi?"

"Mm."

"Kana- _chan_ looks happier when she's talking about teacups and tea," Hani continues. "I think Kana- _chan_ still loves Toru- _chan_."

Mori wipes a stray crumb off Hani's cheek.

"Toru- _kun_ loves her too," I mutter under my breath. With a fist under my chin, I say, "Is that why Kasugazaki- _san_ keeps switching hosts? To keep Toru- _kun_ on his toes?"

Mori fixes me with a look, as though he's just realised something. Hani glances up at him curiously.

Hana nods. "Yeah, he's still listening for any news about her. With how big the Host Club's getting, whatever Kasugazaki- _san_ does is sure to get back through the grapevine."

"That's ridiculous," I say, brows furrowing.

Unexpectedly, Hana doesn't react in the same way. Rather, she places a hand on my shoulder comfortingly. Or perhaps as a reminder.

"You're _really_ worked up about this, Yuuka- _chan_ ," Hana says. "Do you know either of them?"

"No, but –" I pause, turning back to watch Kasugazaki poring over her tea. "There has to be something we can do."

Hani hums a tune airily. "Tama- _chan_ 's got it, don't worry. We're here to make sure everyone's happy!"

He shovels another spoonful of cake into his mouth, and jumps as though recalling something extremely important. Hani reaches for the lower levels of the cake trolley, and brings a plate up to the table. Carefully, he places it in front of me. It's a green mochi, dusted with powdered sugar.

"Here, Yuu- _chan_!" he says with an award-winning grin. "I heard from Kyo- _chan_ that you weren't feeling so well."

At that, my traitorous stomach grumbles. Right. I hadn't eaten lunch at all today. I glance at the tempting snack, and sigh. It shouldn't be a problem to break the rules a little – after all, I did faint from hypoglycaemia. …Mom would have a fit.

"I did promise to eat cake with you, didn't I?" I say coyly, already reaching for the treat.

Hani winks, turning devilish for a quick moment, before the bright-eyed wonder of his usual performance sets back in. Mori sets another plate of cheesecake before Hana. I take a tentative bite, and gasp – it's delicious! The tangy stretch of mochi and semi-sweet green tea flavour were things I'd missed out on for the past few years.

"It's amazing, Hani- _senpai_ ," I say, a hand over my mouth. "It's been such a long time since I ate something like this!"

Hana laughs at my exaggeration, but Hani only looks increasingly concerned.

"A long time?" Hani echoes.

I nod. "I've always been in and out of the hospital as a child – my mom worries a lot about me, and makes sure that I stay extremely healthy. It's why I bring my own lunch to school now."

"Did you stay in Kyo- _chan_ 's hospital?" Hani asks.

"Is there any other hospital around?" I tease.

I place my fork down, and reach for a cup of tea. Hana keeps up the chatter instead, and I listen idly in my seat. Again, the strange heat of someone's gaze falls on me. Mori's staring again, and I begin to wonder if it's because I have something on my cheek.

"You're worried," he says softly.

… He spoke.

Shaking my head, I recover my composure and smile. Hana and Hani are still talking about different classifications of cake. I turn back to Mori, who simply waits for a reply.

"About Toru- _kun_ and Kasugazaki- _san_?" I take a deep breath. "Yeah."

There are flecks of black speckled around his grey irises. In a different light, perhaps, it might glow a faint, rueful bronze. I shrug.

"There's so much to say to each other, but they're wasting time like this. Doesn't it just get on your nerves?" I tap my fingers along the plush arm rests. "I don't get it – are they content with it just being a feeling, or are they choosing to let it go?"

Mori glances at Kasugazaki, but otherwise remains silent. Hana and Hani's debate flies right over my head, compressed into a constant whine. The rest of the club picks up its pace, voices and murmurs falling into part of the same fog. An anonymous, incessant cloud.

"What do you think?" Mori says.

I press my cheek into the curve of my palm. "I think… love is a choice. You can be attracted to someone, but it takes an act of faith or some resolution to stay in love. Every day, every waking moment, is a new slate. We fall in love, but it takes a lot too, I think, to keep loving someone. To wake up every day and think, I'm going to treat them right – even if I'm angry, or if they're mad and unreasonable…

"And to tell them 'I love you', no matter what," I pause. "Or would that contradict Newton's determinism…?"

I turn to Mori, and smile apologetically. "Sorry, I kind of rambled there."

Mori shakes his head, a small, slight movement. He seems to be considering it too.

"What about you, Mori- _senpai_?"

He blinks. And parts his lips in the whisper of a kiss –

"Yuuka- _chan_ ," Hana says, already standing. "It's time to go."

I nod. "Ah. Thank you, Hani- _senpai_ , Mori- _senpai_."

Hani grins waving both his arms cutely. "Come again soon! We'll have more mochi for you next time, Yuu- _chan_!"

Mori bows.

After a beat, he echoes, "Next time."

* * *

 **AN:** Bent a bit of the original anime series to better accommodate Yuuka's involvement. Hopefully it helps with the flow!

Again, reviews will be appreciated - do tell me what you think about Yuuka, or if Mori's too engaged haha


	3. all i am, is a man

**AN:** Aaaaaand we're back!

 _Guest:_ Yes. I'm afraid you've hit the nail on the head.

 _mostwithtoast:_ Can I just say I really love your username! And my favourite host is Mori too! He's kind of, like, my ideal type. Whenever someone asks me what my type is,,, my brain just comes up with pictures of him haha. He's so intelligent and humorous, but because of how reserved he is, it often goes unnoticed.

 _Mamabug:_ Ooh, I've never read the manga haha but I'm gonna hop over to chapter 71 ;) I'm glad you enjoyed the discussion of physics! I'm not sure if I have enough in my to wring out for the next chapters hehe.

 _Ethagrinndt:_ I'm so glad! For a while I was worrying that Yuuka might be a bit too bland or subtle, given that most OCs I've read are really present and front-and-center of things, which is something I can't relate to. At her very core, I think Yuuka is just someone who often has to take the backseat (growing up weak) even if sometimes she will stand up for the things she believes in. I hope you continue enjoying this fic :)

* * *

 _all i am, is a man._

Cooking is one of the few luxuries I can afford. When I was little, I'd always stood on my tiptoes and watched as Maria made breakfast. She was one of the first helpers I'd gotten to know, and up till I was seven, I thought we'd always stay this way. Me, elbows on the counter, and her, pushing scraps of eggs and carrots into my mouth. The entire place, doused in the thick sweet scent of sesame oil and oyster sauce, represents a golden warmth that I try my best to recreate. I'm not as good as her, of course, and she never really got the time to teach me.

Taking a bite of a carrot strip, I pour the rest of the whisked egg into the pan. The sliced tomatoes begin to sizzle fervently, drizzling red and pink over the yellow mix. I turn the knob and lower the fire to a medium heat, shaking the pan slightly. I begin shaping rice balls for my set; Mom's is already done, but Chauffer Yin's is missing broccoli. The pot begins to bubble. There. I sieve the broccoli and crab rolls out, and arrange them in place.

Mom never really has the time to cook, and I suspect she doesn't know how to either (besides any sort of instant curry). It makes things easier for me, though, because she gets impressed by my simple dishes all the time. I grin, thinking of the lasagne recipe I'd modified last night – I should save it for Friday night, after she gets home from accounting.

When all is done, I set them aside, and begin doing the dishes. Chauffer Yin should be pulling up in a few minutes, so I hurry back to my room and change into my uniform. A quick check in the mirror shows that everything's good to go. _I'll have to talk to Aoi today._ I smile, determined, and feel my mood instantly lifted.

Chauffer Yin is by the apartment roundabout when I reach, and he bows.

"Good morning, Chauffer Yin," I say, getting in the car. "I've made broccoli for you today."

"You don't have to, Yuu- _sama_ ," Chauffer Yin says, as he always does.

I roll my eyes, holding my hand out. He grins sheepishly, and returns me the box from yesterday. It's already washed, as expected of him.

"Please eat on time," I remind him. "Or I'll have to carry all your bento boxes throughout school!"

Chauffer Yin smiles and nods. "I look forward to today's lunch, Yuu- _sama_."

"Oh, right, I'd like to drop by Mom's office today," I say. "She's been very busy, and I'm feeling good enough to help out."

Chauffer Yin glances over at me. "Are you sure, Yuu- _sama_ , especially after yesterday?"

"I'm alright, Chauffer Yin," I reassure. "I'm just making fast friends with the Ouran floor."

He chuckles. "Alright, then, but you have to tell Nakahara- _sama_ about it, or she'll find out when she hears the answering machine."

I grin. "I will, Chauffer Yin."

* * *

Entering class is another hazard I did not expect to face. There's an obnoxiously large rose in my face, lowered gently to reveal Tamaki's sparkling eyes. Quite literally. He beams, and folds my hand around its stem.

"I'm so glad you're alright, Yuuka- _hime_ ," Tamaki says. "And now you're as radiant as ever!"

I smile, mirthful. "I'm glad you were worried for me, Tamaki- _kun_."

At this, Hana crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow. "You're losing your touch, Tamaki- _kun_."

Tamaki places a hand delicately over his chest, sporting a wounded look as he turns to face Hana. "Hana- _hime_!"

Hana crosses over and stands by my side. "You didn't notice Yuuka- _chan_ at the Host Club yesterday?"

Tamaki begins blustering, eyes wide. He begins a spiel of denial, furious disbelief, and a sputtering half-apology, falling just shy of combustion. He presses the tips of his fingers together, eyes darting around rapidly, searching for an out.

"It's alright, Tamaki- _kun,_ " I say, just as Kyoya approaches us.

"If it's alright, Yuuka- _san_ , we do have something to discuss with you," Kyoya says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "And Hana- _san_ too."

Tamaki swivels around, giving Kyoya an incredulous look. I consider his words, watch the way Kyoya's left eye twitches even as he grants Tamaki a polite smile. Tamaki's eyes light up quite literally, and begin to crinkle. I'd better help Kyoya out here too.

"I see," I say, gaze shifting from Kyoya to Tamaki slowly. "I'm sure we are amenable to hearing you out later."

Hana nods. "How about lunch?"

Tamaki smiles, reaching out to take Hana's hands in his own. "Of course, Hana- _hime_."

Spotting a lone figure rush through the back door of the classroom, I excuse myself. Tamaki's in the middle of magicking a smaller rose from behind Hana's ear, and Kyoya looking on with the patience of a mother hen. Aoi hastily pulls out a book and buries his head in it.

"Aoi- _kun_ ," I say, despite his obvious reluctance. "Do you have a minute to talk?"

His fingers curl around the covers of the book, before relaxing. "Y-yeah."

"If you don't mind, we could go to the hallway," I say.

Aoi follows after me, hugging his book to his chest. Before I can say anything, however, I find him in a deep bow, back straight and face down.

"I-I'm really sorry!" Aoi exclaims. "Are you alright?"

"Aoi- _kun_ , please get up," I say, bending down.

He shoots up without warning, and our heads collide painfully. _Damn_. That… was surprisingly painful. I cringe, holding a hand to my forehead. He winces too, shock and pain visible on his face. I rub my hand against the offending ache, as he does – a sheepish hand on the back of his head. Something about the situation dispels all tension; I begin laughing, as does he.

"Are you alright?" Aoi says in between fitful of giggles. "I'm sorry –"

"Let's not bow again," I add hastily.

Aoi grins, and gradually rearranges his face to form something a little more befitting the purpose of our talk. I swallow, and take a deep breath.

"Aoi- _kun_ ," I begin, "I'd like to apologise for yesterday. I'm not entirely sure what it was that upset you, but I know that I did make certain assumptions. They upset you, and I want to apologise for that."

He nods slowly. "I- uh, thank you. I heard from Hana and Sora that you tried going after me, and because of that you fainted, and it's my fault, so –"

I hold a hand up. "It's not your fault that I fainted. I took the risk myself, when I should have been more careful."

Aoi frowns, turning a shade of guilt. He shakes his head, hand lingering on the back of his neck.

"Thank you for worrying about me," I say. "And actually, about what happened yesterday, I hope I can understand why you got upset."

A silence falls over us. Aoi chews on his bottom lip, hands fiddling with the hems of his blazer. A thousand thoughts appear to be running across his mind. This time, I wait patiently, knowing that there's something he'd like to say.

Finally, Aoi looks back at me, and while his eyes do divert to the courtyard out the window, he begins speaking purposefully. "Thank you, Yuuka- _san_ , I really appreciate you apologising. It's- well, it's not your fault. And for chasing after me, that's- really, thank you. I'm sorry – I don't think I can… talk about that yet? But-"

He pauses, and faces me. "I hope you can understand."

"I won't ask about it," I say. "If you want to talk about it, I'm always ready to listen."

At that, Aoi breathes a sigh of relief. He nods awkwardly, and gestures for us to get ready for class. I'm about to do so, when I spot Toru trudging down the corridor towards his class. Raising a hand, I catch his attention. He smiles, and jogs over.

"Morning," Toru says.

"Good morning," I say. "You're in a good mood today."

"Yeah," Toru says. "We just got a new shipment of teacups – they're going to be displayed at the sakura viewing ball."

"The ball?" I echo. "That's quite early in the term for one, isn't it?"

Toru grins, and for a moment his eyes dull, "Well, it's –"

He pauses, eyes trained on something before his gaze falls to the ground. I turn to where he's looking at, and find myself the target of a withering glare. Kasugazaki strides over to and past us, heels clicking angrily. Toru lets go of the breath he's holding as the clicking fades, and grimaces.

"You should go after her," I say.

Toru shrugs. "What good will that do?"

"Better than the cold war you're having?" I suggest. "You seem like you want to say something to her."

Toru chuckles, wry and hard. "She doesn't want to listen. I think I'd better get to class."

I nod reluctantly, and watch Toru slip soundlessly into his own classroom.

* * *

Sitting with the Host Club is quite a novel experience. While I was homeschooled, I never had the pleasure of appreciating social hierarchy. Rather, we crowded around on stools-too-short and dug into piping bowls of porridge, listening to the nurses as they acted out various fairy-tales. Now, positioned strategically below the sun, I too was part of the gold-bathed party.

"You pack your lunch too, Nakahara- _senpai_?" Haruhi asks.

Haruhi brings out his own packed lunch. He's much more skilled than I am, as evidenced by the little bunny shaped riceballs and tofu-skin hats. I smile, and Tamaki coos at how lovely they look. The twins barely manage to steal a sausage-octopus from Haruhi's lunchbox.

"Only simply," I say.

Haruhi smiles, radiant and kind, "I'm sure it tastes amazing."

Tamaki begins fawning over Haruhi, cupping his cheeks and talking about how precious he was. The twins join in, and it soon becomes a tangled mess of limbs, and an abandoned bento. Kyoya clears his throat, so I turn away from the public display of affection and to Kyoya instead.

"I'm not sure if word has gotten around yet," Kyoya says, "but the Host Club will be hosting a sakura-viewing ball next Wednesday evening."

At that, the surrounding tables begin to titter. I shudder, feeling the curious eyes and ears pointed in our direction. Kyoya, however, seems satisfied by the low murmur.

"Ah," I say, "Toru- _kun_ did mention it in passing."

Kyoya raises an eyebrow. "Yes, we will be using Suzushima- _san_ 's tea wares. He has a good eye for them."

"As do you," I say, picking up my chopsticks and biting into an eggroll.

"I hope you will affirm that by agreeing to my favour," Kyoya says, picking up his cup and sipping from it. "We would like to work with Green Core to organise this event."

"And what does that project entail?"

Kyoya pulls out a black notebook from his pocket, parting it to a specific page and pushing it across the table. "A four-hour event at the Tokugawa Hall. Measurements listed here."

"So, design and supplies," I summarise. "Oh, and manpower outsource?"

Kyoya smiles. "You put it better than I could."

I consider it. The Hall's a big space, and given that it's a sakura-viewing event, it would necessitate an extension of space to where the trees are.

"Do you have plans for the fields?" I ask.

Kyoya tilts his head, gaze imperceptible. So this was a test. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Not at the moment," I confess. "I'll need more information. How large of a crowd are you expecting?"

"No larger than a thousand," Kyoya says.

I nod. "Budget and any other requests I ought to know about?"

Kyoya glances over at Tamaki, who's retreated to the edge of the bench, dissipating into the air, and sighs. "Preferably under half a million. And as for the design, we'd like to keep it quite similar to our past events – elegant and clean. I trust _your_ discretion, Yuuka- _san_."

"Speaking of, what happened to your previous event manager?"

Kyoya smiles, but his eyes are faraway in some land of never-ending vengeance. "He left an eight million yen vase we were about to auction out in the open."

"I see. I'll draft a few possible designs and we can discuss them tomorrow," I say. "It's quite a rushed event, but we'll see what we can do."

Kyoya nods, extending a hand. "I look forward to working with you."

"Likewise," I say, and reach into my pocket for my card holder. "Here's my card."

"Thank you," Kyoya says as he hands me his.

I take another look at the graceful calligraphy on the notebook, before closing it and returning it to Kyoya. It's going to be a rushed order – that lasagne recipe best be mouth-wateringly perfect in order to persuade Mom to let me take on this one. Another bite of my eggroll.

"Is it my turn now?" Hana jokes, setting her tray down. "Hey, Yuuka- _chan_."

"Hey, Hana," I say.

Mori and Hani join us as well, though Hani's tray is merely full of cake and Mori's full of assorted vegetables and meat. Meanwhile, Hana's nodding enthusiastically to Kyoya's proposal, muttering jargons I can only hope to understand.

"Hello, Mori- _senpai_ , Hani- _senpai_ ," I say. "How have you been?"

Mori grunts, and Hani begins to chatter about his (and Usa- _chan_ 's) day; they had cake for breakfast, cake in between classes, some tea in between, and a locker full of cakepops from admirers. Mori nods along.

"…And then, you know, Tama- _chan_ thought of hosting a ball! So now we're going to go cake-tasting as well!" Hani exclaims.

From the periphery of my vision, I think I see Kyoya stiffen.

"Cake tasting?" I echo.

"Yeah!" Hani nods. "You should come along too!"

"Mitsukuni," Mori says.

It's quite amazing, how they seem to read each other's mind. Hani flushes pink, and lowers his head in a show of remorse.

"Oh no, but Yuu- _chan_ can't eat cake," Hani says. "I'm sorry, Yuu- _chan_ , I didn't mean to upset you!"

"I'm not upset," I say. "I'll probably be quite busy the next few days too – I'll be helping Kyoya- _san_ by designing and sourcing for materials."

"I see!" Hani chirps. "That means you'll be there for the ball, right? It's for everyone who visits the Host Club!"

I pause. "Oh, well, I'll ask my friends if they'd like to go."

Hani nods even more vigorously. "You have to! It won't be the same without Yuu- _chan_ , right, Takashi?"

Mori turns to me. "Mm."

 _Consider me charmed._ I watch as Hani presses his palms together, giving me his best puppy-eyes. How could anyone say no to that? I grin and nod an affirmation. Hani immediately straightens up, and begins shovelling cake into his face. Mori watches over him with a fond look in his eyes, then begins digging in.

"–That's no fair!" one of the twins begins yelling.

"We also want to eat Haruhi's homemade lunch!" the other continues.

Tamaki begins fumbling, arms flailing around wildly. He begins tugging the twins' arms off Haruhi's unbothered shoulders. Haruhi flicks another cherry tomato into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully as he spaces out.

"Oh! Yuu- _chan_ ," Hani says, eyes wide like saucers, following the inevitable chase between Tamaki and the twins. "Do you make your own lunch all the time?"

I nod. "I do."

"Eh?" Hana chimes in, leaning away from her discussion with Kyoya. "I always thought you had your housekeeper do it!"

"We don't have a housekeeper," I say. "My mom and I don't need to live in a very large space anyway."

"Oh, so you do your own housework?" Hani asks curiously. "But that's very tiring!"

I shake my head, and wink. "Sometimes we cheat and get a cleaner on Sundays."

Hana sinks into her chair. "I can't imagine doing all the housework _and_ cooking for myself!"

I shrug. "Well, it's really because my mom's always busy with work. I'm actually going to head down to her office after the last period. She always forgets her lunch."

"Oh, you're not going to the Host Club?" Hana and Hani ask. They look at each other, and share a grin.

"No," I say. "I'm afraid not, Hana- _chan_."

"I guess I'll have to turn up for miniature modelling then," Hana groans, stretching her arms above her head. "Sora says I'm cutting it a bit too close, can you believe it?"

"You're involved in everything, Hana- _chan,_ " I say, pinching her nose. And then, I turn to Mori. "Mori- _senpai_ , do you go for your other clubs?"

Mori nods. "Occasionally."

"Don't they have a minimum number of sessions you're to go for?"

Hana waves it away. "Mori- _senpai_ is from the Morinozuka clan, they won't have things like that."

I raise a brow. "Why?"

"Huh?" Hana says. "Mori- _senpai_ 's the national champion for Kendo. Also, his family and Hani- _senpai_ 's family are the pioneer of traditional martial arts in Japan."

"Is that so," I say, looking to Hani for confirmation.

He nods. "But Chika- _chan_ 's now in charge of the karate club."

Hana holds a hand up. "Wait, you don't know this?"

"No, why would I?" I frown. "That doesn't mean there isn't a minimum requirement."

Hani shakes his head. "Nope! You're right, Yuu- _chan_ , we still have to make sure we don't set a bad example for everyone. Right, Takashi?"

Mori nods, gaze kind and understanding. "Rules are rules."

"Ah," Hana says, and laughs. "Well, I guess I should really start going for my clubs, then!"

"You'll still come to the Host Club, right, Hana- _chan_?" Hani asks, puppy-eyes on display once again, though a notch subdued.

Hana flashes a victory sign. "I'll manage it somehow!"

* * *

Mom's workplace is frazzled as usual. Kei sidesteps out of my path, carrying at least four separate stacks of old fabric. Donations – I think I remember some mention of collaboration with a fashion designer. I deftly avoid the incoming Roomba we'd patched up together with some spare parts, and make my way to Mom's desk.

"Nana," Mom says without looking up from her drawing tablet. "Thanks for the email – I'll also need a palette from the customer, and then we need to get to the Hi– oh, Yuu!"

"Yes, me," I tease, setting Mom's bento down. "Let me guess, pattern six and no lunch yet?"

Mom places her stylus down and sighs. "I'm just left with the final design for Mitsuha Corp. And then I'll need to head down to Hitachiin Holdings for tea with their CEO."

"And you're also flying off to China to check on our factory next week?" I remind.

Mom grins. "Nah, I'm leaving that to Su Tong, I'll have to prep for the home appliances fair for next month."

I shrug. "Right, so that's just, what, three things?"

She pats my head. "Of course. Now, what brings you here?"

Mom draws me over to the couch, her lunch in tow. We sink into the comforting plush, and Mom cracks her neck too loudly. Her glasses are tucked into the collar of her shirt, and her khakis stained with coffee.

"For starters," I unwrap the bento. "Your lunch."

"Just starters?" she teases. "Oh, crab-rolls! You really pamper me too much, Yuu."

"Well, I do have a few things to tell you," I say. "I over-exhausted myself yesterday and fainted in class."

Mom gasps, almost dropping the bento. She sets it down, and begins checking me thoroughly.

"What happened? Did you hurt yourself?"

I shake my head. "No, Kyoya- _san_ brought me to the sick bay."

"Should we shift your appointment earlier?" Mom asks. "What happened?"

I explain to her how I'd gone after Aoi, first through the rose garden and then up to the rooftop garden. When I'm done, the anxiety in her eyes doesn't quite fade away, even as a little smile graces her lips.

"I'm glad I taught you well," she says, "but you promised me you'd take good care of yourself, Yuuka."

I nod, apologetic. "I was too focused on making sure everything was alright, I forgot about my condition."

She frowns. "That's… Yuuka, on one hand I'm glad you're enjoying school. On the other…"

Mom tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, sighing. "If anything went wrong, and I'm too busy right now to know, it could be bad, you know?"

I tug out my house keys, an emergency tile keychain attached to it. "I have this, Mom. It'll make sure that I get to the hospital if there's an emergency. I'll also make sure to text you."

"Promise," Mom says, holding out her pinky. "That you'll take care of yourself and tell me if something goes wrong, immediately."

I take her pinky. "I promise. This was just a reckless accident."

Mom grins. "Well, I can't fault you – I was just as reckless in my schooldays. Of course, you have to know your limits, Yuuka."

"I will," I say.

"Now, is there something else, or am I allowed to eat the lunch my beautiful daughter packed for me?"

I groan. "Mom."

Mom shakes her head and picks up the bento once more. "Well?"

"Remember the Host Club I told you about? Kyoya- _san_ asked me to help design and source for their sakura-viewing ball. It's next Wednesday, so it'll be a rushed order," I say, chewing on my bottom lip. "I've got all the details down, but…"

"But you want to do it," Mom says. "Why?"

I pause, thinking about it. "Well, I think it'll be a good opportunity – I've helped you design multiple events before, and this is of a much smaller scale."

"And… you fancy that Ootori boy?"

"What?" I laugh. "No, Mom."

She wriggles her brows. "Denial is the first sign of attraction, Yuu."

"Really, I'm not interested in him. I'm just making friends," I say, still amused.

"I see." She settles back down and chews on a crab-roll thoughtfully. "If you're sure. I'll let you settle it, then. You can reach out to Satou for the materials when you're done with the design."

"Did someone call for me? Oh, Yuuka- _chan_!" Satou rushes out, handmade bangles dangling from his arms.

He sweeps me into a hug, and holds me by the shoulders to examine me.

"You've grown so much bigger," he says, awed. "Isn't it amazing, they never stop growing!"

"I'm right here, Satou- _san_ ," I say. "Mom was just giving me the green light on a school project. And you're going to help me with it."

He nods. "Of course. Asami- _san_ , your meeting with Yuzuha- _san_ is in half an hour's time."

Mom swallows the last of her lunch, and gives him a thumb's up. "Actually, Yuu's going to come along with us. I think she'll need a dress for her ball."

"A ball?" Satou echoes incredulously, face glowing. "Yuuka- _chan_ , you're really maturing into a fine young lady."

I curtsey, and Satou laughs. Mom closes her bento and shoos Satou back to his work. He waves, beaming brightly like the sparkling beads on his arms.

"Yuu, call Chauffer Yin and tell him we'll be down in a five."

I do, and then scroll through a few photos I'd taken of Tokugawa Hall earlier. Just judging from its dimensions, it's clearly made for ballroom dancing. I won't detract from its grandeur – by keeping the decorations minimal, I'll have several tables to the sides under the alcoves, save a space for the orchestra, and look out for possible accent pieces from a thrift shop. Would it be overt to have flowers?

Mom exits from her office in a buttoned blue dress. I smile.

"You look pretty," I say.

"I hope so," she says. "It's a pre-loved Chanel, and I hope it doesn't offend Yuzuha- _san_ 's senses."

"Hey, at least it's Chanel," I say. "And besides, if it does offend her senses, she might not be the most suitable working partner then."

Mom laughs. "You always have the right words."

Chauffer Yin is waiting for us by the door. He holds it open, and we pool in. Remembering something, I turn to Mom.

"By the way, Mom, do you know about the Morinozuka clan?"

"Morinozuka?" Mom repeats slowly. "Ah, well, they're a very old, very established clan. I'm surprised – people usually talk about them in relation to the Haninozuka clan."

I scratch my neck. "Is that so?"

"Why do you ask about them?"

I shrug. "I'm just curious. What exactly do they do?"

"If I'm not wrong, they're the best in combat-training and strategy planning. Of course, as per tradition, they also fund several temples and meditation centres." She taps a finger against her chin.

"And the Haninozuka clan too?"

"Ye-es," she says, frowning when she turns to me. "I hope you're not worrying about business now, Yuu."

"Why would I be?" I ask, and immediately find my own answer. "Ah, right, I've noticed that everyone introduces themselves with their family legacy."

She sighs. "It hasn't changed at all, huh. If it gets too much for you, we can always transfer to a different high school."

"It isn't," I say. "I mean, the business is an inseparable part of Ouran, but it's also the school you went to when you were younger. I'd like to experience it myself."

Mom smiles, stroking my head. "Like what Satou said. You grow up too fast – I'm sorry you never had a childhood, Yuuka."

"I did," I say, mirroring her smile. "And now I'm still making friends."

She ponders over it. "I suppose you are. You know what, when I'm freer, we should invite them over for lunch."

"Them?"

"All your friends, I'll leave that to your choosing," she says, and winks. "But Ootori Kyoya is definitely a must!"

I sigh. "I'm not interested in him, Mom."

"Of course," Mom says, winking obnoxiously.

In a matter of moments, we roll up to Hitachiin Holdings. It's an imposing building, sparkling bright and gloriously. The receptionist gives Mom a once-over, then passes her a key card, instructing her on the way up to the CEO's office. We follow them duly, and reach a floor with equally marvellous extravagance. Quite unnecessary. Mom presses a button and announces our arrival.

"You must be Asami- _san_ ," a lady says, in sweeping fashion.

"Pleasure to meet you, Yuzuha- _san_ ," Mom greets.

I bow. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Your daughter, Asami- _san_?" Yuzuha says. "She goes to Ouran High School, like my sons."

"Nakahara Yuuka." I pause, and nod. "They are a year below me."

"And many more," Yuzuha adds, winking. "Please take a seat."

We do, and a lady in a French maid costume pours us some tea. I thank her, and she startles, but retreats into the corner, back stiff and face resuming its initial nonchalance. Yuzuha and Mom begin talking in measured tones about an upcoming swimwear collection. I listen politely, as they tug between details of possible fabric alternatives, faux fur and design practicalities.

"And what does Yuuka- _chan_ think?" Yuzuha says, drawing my attention.

She's got a few swimsuit designs splayed out. They vary quite a bit, ranging from turtlenecks to scandalous cutouts.

"I was thinking," I say, "what about accessories?"

"Accessories?" Yuzuha repeats, eyes glinting.

"Swim caps, or even cover-ups; they could all be made by upcycling old swim pieces," I say. "People could donate their old swimwear for an exclusive preview, as well as more unique patterns."

Yuzuha considers it. "I'll talk to my marketing department if we could give it a go. Thank you, Yuuka- _chan_."

"By the way, Yuzuha- _san_ , I also have a personal favour to ask," Mom says, gesturing to me. "Yuu's attending a sakura-viewing ball that your sons are hosting. I'm afraid we haven't had the time to get her fitted for a good one."

Yuzuha nods. "Of course. Yuuka- _chan_ , if you don't mind, please follow Sana."

The lady in the French maid outfit steps out and bows. I nod, and we exit through another door by the shelves.

"Yuzuha- _san_ , we've also vetted through your factories in China…" Mom takes over, and they launch into another round of discussions.

Sana leads me to a room full of mannequins and fabric rolls. A kind, elderly lady turns around as Sana knocks on the door. She places her gold-rimmed glasses back on and smiles.

"Yuuka- _sama_ would like to be fitted for an evening gown, Kazuha- _san_ ," Sana says.

"Alright, Sana," Kazuha nods, and then whirls around to guide me by the elbow. "Now, what shall we do with you?"

* * *

 **AN:** All reviews are greatly appreciated!


	4. i want the world in my hands

**AN:** slightly shorter this time, but we got a lot more Yuuka-Mori action! Honestly, 2019 got off to a rough start, but hey, after what was 2018, this can't get any worse, right? ... Well, I hope not!

 _Mamabug:_ Ask and you shall receive! I'm trying to maintain a fine balance between Mori's quiet reassurance and the times when he speaks, but I think I have it without being too OOC?

 _Harajuku103:_ If you google "a line off shoulder dusty blue prom dress with a belt", the first result from uniondresses is what I pictured, except with longer sleeves because Yuuka has a couple of bruises and marks from injections!

 _mostwithtoast:_ /punches air/ toast is the best thing in the world, I swear. And yeah, Yuuka

* * *

 _i want the world in my hands_

* * *

"You turned in an empty graph pad," Hirose- _sensei_ deadpans. "Ten minutes. Explain."

He's not upset, per se. Though he's surrounded by stacks of essays – typed or sporting impeccable penmanship, and that probably has to account for something. I hold my own, shoulders pulled back and gaze unwavering.

"This is of my own free will," I say. "And yours, if you wish to chart your own picture on it."

Hirose- _sensei_ doesn't let up, fingers in a steeple over his nose. His hawk-like eyes pierce into mine. And then he chuckles.

"Interesting, Nakahara- _kun_ ," he says. "And how should I grade it, then?"

I tilt my head. "It is as you will."

Hirose- _sensei_ shakes his head and sighs. He then pulls another empty sheet from the side, and places it right next to mine.

"This is Suoh- _kun_ 's," he says. "It would appear that he had the same idea as you."

"A picture _is_ a thousand words," I can't help smiling. "Perhaps this is determinism's win, then."

"Well, that settles it," Hirose- _sensei_ says, "every Friday, after three, lecture theatre four. Don't be late."

He swivels round in his chair and begins marking another stack of papers. I bow, and take it as a dismissal. On my way out, I let the door fall gently back against my hand, and then upon its hinges. Mori's sitting outside, by an especially tall potted plant. He looks up as I pace over.

"Mori- _senpai_ ," I say, nodding.

"Nakahara- _san_ ," he says.

"What are you doing here?"

He holds up the piece of paper (looking as though it were iron-pressed), reading 'career guidance'. I pause – strange, that this would even be mandatory in Ouran. I settle into the seat next to him.

"You're planning on studying Theory and Philosophy of Law," I say. "Why?"

Mori considers it for a moment, before saying, "It is interesting. There is so much order in disorder."

I nod. "Organised chaos; violence for violence is the rule of beasts."

For a moment, I think the corners of his lips are lifted. And then it's back to the same poker face. Mori looks down at his paper, and then at me. He seems to be anticipating something. A question? I don't have one. I look back, graphing the way his hair, cropped and short, spikes at intervals.

"You asked about love," he finally says. "If it was a choice or feeling."

Ah. So he remembered. I nod, gaze falling back down to meet his. "And your verdict?"

"A feeling," he says. "We are fortunate to feel so much for so many."

Interesting. For some reason, I didn't peg him so much as a romantic; he struck me more as a loyal, practical person. But perhaps it's also in the way he commits himself to Hani and silently looks after Haruhi, or the rest of the club.

"So love fades over time," I say.

He shrugs. "There are many different kinds. One simply grows into another."

"Energy cannot be created nor destroyed," I prompt cheekily. "Only transferred from one state to another."

The angular shape of his jaw casts shadows sharper than any jibe. But Mori is so, so gentle with his movements, and any doubt reconciles itself to form curiosity instead.

"I thought you would have said it was a choice," I admit. "But now it seems like we're arguing for two sides of the same coin."

"No," he says. "A feeling is not a choice. A choice is what you make of the feeling."

"Ah."

Carefully, Mori places a hand on my head. "You think too much."

I laugh, and reach up to relieve my head of his palm. It's broader than I'd remembered. "I've been told that."

Mori doesn't say anything to that. I settle in comfortable silence next to him, watching puffs of clouds drift past the opposite block. The sky's so blue today – it's going to be a good evening for the ball later. The warmth from his arm brushes against mine, barely, but just enough. The door to the staffroom jingles effortlessly, and out bounces Hani. He has Usa- _chan_ in his arms, a signature pose for his Hosting persona. It doesn't quite reach his eyes, even if they brighten when he spots Mori.

"Takashi!" Hani squeals and springs towards us. "Yuu- _chan_!"

"Hello, Hani- _senpai_ ," I say. "How are you?"

"I'm great, Yuu- _chan_!" Hani replies. "Are you here for Takeuchi- _sensei_ too?"

"No," I say, "I was meeting Hirose- _sensei_ earlier, and joined Mori- _senpai_ when I saw him out here."

Mori nods. Hani blinks, once, and then again.

"Oh, Hirose- _sensei_ teaches us philosophy," Hani says. "He's very scary, isn't he, Takashi?"

Mori nods again. "Mm."

"Takashi, you should go in now! I'll take Yuu- _chan_ back to class and come back, alright?" Hani asks, and then pushes Usa- _chan_ into Mori's hands. "You can take Usa- _chan_ in with you! Takeuchi- _sensei_ likes Usa- _chan_ a lot!"

For the third and final time, Mori nods. He turns to me and says, "See you."

I smile and wave, trying not to laugh too hard at the sight of a deadpan Mori carrying Usa- _chan_ with the utmost caution. Hani quickly hooks his arm around mine. We walk, and I hurry a little to keep pace with his jovial gait. Hani knows the school well, turning sharply at corners and chatting without a care easily.

"So you're all having career consultations?" Hani hums an assent, and I continue, "Have you decided on what you'd like to do?"

Hani shakes his head. "Not really! I know I still want to train with Takashi, and eat lots of cake, though!"

"That sounds wonderful," I say.

"You know, Takashi wants to do law in university," Hani says. "It's such a serious subject, you know?"

"He said it's interesting," I echo.

"He did?"

Nodding, I steer Hani away from the swan statute and up the other hall. "He said something about order in disorder. It sounded like he was -"

I catch myself before I can blurt my thoughts. But too late, perhaps, because now Hani is guiding us back along another stretch of corridors. Peonies on the wall now, and lavenders. There's a polished deer bust next to the windows. Sets of heels click on behind us.

"What did it sound like?" Hani asks curiously.

I hesitate, but decide it wouldn't hurt. "It sounded like he was worried about the change – were you holding out on him, Hani- _senpai_?"

We reach a particularly large window looking out at a rose garden. Hani unhooks his arm from mine and walks over to the tinted glass, pressing his hands up against it.

"Takashi has always followed me," Hani says. "He is a loyal and patient friend."

I walk over to the glass panels, trace a finger over its delicate and articulate frame. Wood, again, quite unlike the colossal marble of the rest of this palace. There must be a reason for this block's design. A silver of something flickers in Hani's reflection. And then mine.

"I don't look like it, but I was born before Takashi. He's never known a world without me," Hani continues softly. "From when we were young, we were always together. That's why…"

He trails off, looking uncomfortably thoughtful. For once, Hani looks a little more like his age. I exhale softly, looking out towards the centre of the maze. It looks so simple from up here.

"You sound worried."

Hani smiles up at me, unbearably youthful in his chagrin.

"Hani- _senpai_ ," I say, "did you ever consider that perhaps you were waiting for him instead?"

He's taken aback, even as he resolves that quickly with an adorably confused façade. A moment later, Hani grins.

"You're very smart, Yuu- _chan_ ," Hani says.

I shake my head, feeling as though this were a deliberate attempt at something. Like a test. "It's always easier to look from the outside."

At this, Hani takes my hands. "You're not on the outside anymore, Yuu- _chan_."

He's not talking about his ties with Mori this time. For some reason, something bittersweet dredges up in the bottom of my chest, swells into gratitude and blooms helplessly into a smile.

* * *

"Satou, could you get the streamers hung up?" I say, lifting a vase from the ground. "And ask Mei to be in charge of setting up the tables?"

Satou sighs but commands a group of sullen teenagers with a flick of his wrists. They begin unrolling the streamers grumpily, but I know it won't take Satou long before they're all slightly less moody and more cooperative. He has a charm about him, and besides, we've promised them free food from the buffet. Not that Kyoya needs to know.

It's hard to get a good grip on the pot. I put it down, huffing slightly. _I've got to take it easier or Mom will really withdraw me from Ouran._

"Yuuka- _chan_!" Hana yells from the left entrance.

I walk over to her. "Aren't you supposed to be at archery practice?"

She nods, showing off her uniform. "I thought I'd walk past and sneak a peek. You were drawing in class the past few days, but now it really looks like it's coming together!"

Hana peers into the hall, and gasps in awe when one of the streamers is set up. She flashes a victory sign and hurries off to practice. She's such a wonder. I shake my head and walk back to the vase. With a deep breath, I roll my sleeves up as high as they'd go, and heave –

 _CRASH!_

My palm is burning. The flowers are scattered over the carpet, stained red and sparkling white. I pull my hand up, and find specks of gold buried brittle amidst the cut. The tips of my fingers are damp, but it's hard to tell, not when they're shaking involuntarily. I cup my injured palm against my stomach.

"Yuuka- _senpai_!" Haruhi shouts, running over. "Are you alright?"

"Yuuka- _chan_!" Satou yells, hopping down the last few stairs. A couple of dazed teenagers stare down from their scaffolding. "Are you hurt? You're bleeding!"

I look down at the vase, and then at the now-filling hall. "I'm fine. Satou, do you mind-?"

"It's alright, _senpai_ ," Haruhi cuts in. "I'll clean up here. Satou- _san_ , the infirmary is on the second floor in the other wing."

I check the time. "It's alright, I'll walk myself there. Satou, can you continue overseeing the decorations?"

He purses his lips, but a thud from the second floor draws his attention. "If you're sure…"

"I am," I say, shooting him a reassuring smile.

A drawl of "Satou" from one of the teenagers on the second floor seals the deal. Satou ruffles my hair, and rushes back up. I nod in gratitude to Haruhi, who just mutters under his breath about hazardous vases. I'll have to think of a way to reincorporate the broken vase and the flowers.

As I walk past the second floor, I find Kasugazaki coming my way from the other direction. She's lost in thought, eyes misty and faraway. The downward slope of her shoulders is telling. As soon as she notices me, however, her gaze hardens, and her jaw tenses. With a bitter scoff, she hastens, shortening the distance between us. I keep my pace even, my injured palm safely out of the way.

"Toru –" she says just as she crosses me, but it's evident that even the word pains her. "Suzushima- _kun_ is an engaged man, Nakahara."

I turn to face her. "As are you, Kasugazaki- _san_."

Her face turns a vivid shade of red, and she stomps back, fingers curling into fists. "I am engaged to him."

"Then why are you angry?"

Kasugazaki laughs wryly. "Why don't you tell me, Nakahara?"

With that, she spins on her heels, striding away with righteous indignation at her every step. Jealousy is not a good look. I steady myself, and walk on right to the infirmary. I have to be alright for this ball. A sudden chill runs down my back, as though someone were watching – but the halls are empty here, and there's no sound save for silence. The loudest of them all. I shake my head and hurry on.

The nurse takes a look at me, and then at my stained gown, and sighs. "Is it a broken vase?"

I hold out my palm. "I'm afraid so."

Gingerly, she begins extracting the shards from the surrounding wounds. "You fainted earlier this month, didn't you?"

I nod. "I'm anaemic."

"From class 2A?" she asks. "You better not overexert yourself, Nakahara- _san_ , or you'll collapse again."

"I won't," I say.

She scoffs. "That's what you all say. I'm getting off work in an hour – you'll be responsible for yourself afterwards."

"Yes, _sensei_."

"…Just Shun is fine. I have a feeling I'll be seeing a lot more of you."

I laugh. "That's a very dark joke, Shun."

She raises a brow, and continues tsk-ing as she disinfects and cleans my wound. Her honesty, while hidden beneath a tough and exasperated exterior, is refreshing. I wouldn't mind coming here at times just to catch a break. Shun shoos me out, and warns me not to come into close quarters with vases or banana peels. Those, apparently, have the highest rates of causing an accident.

* * *

Everything else goes on without a hitch, thankfully. With Haruhi and Mori's help, everything is neatly arranged. The streamers, translucent and sewn with seeds, hang loosely from the ceiling, encasing the centrepiece without distracting from it. With the moonlight seeping through the glass window above, everything begins to glow, soft and holy. Satou calls for a group hug and receives a reluctant one from his teenager crew. Mei meanwhile debriefs them about their community service hours.

"Yuuka- _san,_ I'm glad to see that everything is in order," he says. "Is your hand alright?"

I nod. "I'm alright, thank you. Hana- _chan_ 's production team has already set up the lights outside the hall."

"Wonderful," he says, smiling brilliantly at the simplicity of the hall. "I'm afraid you must evacuate now – the ball will be starting in ten minutes."

I nod. "Pleasure."

Satou is at my side immediately, rushing me out. "Yuuka- _chan_ , stop gawking! Go get changed!"

I've not had the chance to see it since Kazuha took my measurements and went on a cryptic tirade about youth and current fashion trends. And even after that, especially since Mom and Satou were so keen on keeping it a total surprise. Satou pushes me towards the third music room, which has been conveniently transformed into a backroom. He winks, teetering at the many gowns on display.

"Yuuka- _hime_ ," one of the twins says, bowing. "Your gown is over here."

He leads me to a corner of the room, past hedges of dazzling pinks and maroons and purples. Finally, we stop at where the other twin is adjusting a gown. It's a gorgeous shade of blue – dusty, almost violet – cinched in at the waist and flowing down in gentle waves. It's certainly not as bold or grand as the other dresses I'd walked past, but it's beautiful. I can't help but gasp. Flowers, stitched meticulously on the corset, cascading up into a sweetheart neckline. The first twin smirks, and holds his arm out towards it.

"Yuuka- _hime_ , it's all yours," he says.

I walk up to it, fingers tracing an impossibly soft fabric. One of the French maids, Sana, walks over from the corner and closes the curtains around us. Without much effort, she buttons my dress up. It's incredibly light, fitting to fold over my figure. With every step I take, the dress blossoms out in a whisper of the crossings between winter and spring.

Sana loosens my hair from its braid and proceeds to brush it out. I watch, childishly enamoured with the way each layer of tulle drifts in the air and falls quietly.

"It's gorgeous, Sana- _san_ ," I say.

Sana jumps slightly, but says, "It is, Nakahara- _sama_."

"Just Yuuka is fine," I say.

Sana stiffens, but complies. "Yes, Yuuka- _sama_."

I hold my tongue after that; Sana's not used to being spoken to, and to be honest, I don't think I'll ever see her again. She's a staff of the Hitachiin family, and I am only here as a favour. I smile at her when she's done, and thank her. Sana nods and opens the curtains.

The music room is empty. The party must have started a while ago. I look at the many racks before me, abandoned. An idea springs to mind, childishly, ignorantly.

"Sana- _san_ , what will you be doing tonight?"

Sana tilts her head. "I will be here, Yuuka- _sama_."

"Do you want to go to the ball too?" I ask.

Sana immediately blanches. "That would not be appropriate, Yuuka- _sama_."

I frown. "But you will be bored here."

Sana shakes her head. "I'm afraid I cannot take advantage of your goodwill, Yuuka- _sama_."

Her eyes are downcast. I leave it at that.

"Alright, then," I say, and straighten my back. "I'll be off to the ball."

Sana bows, a perfect picture of obedience. I step out into the hallways, and follow the same route down back to Tokugawa hall. The ball is already in full swing, with girls in their bejewelled gowns and sparkling hair. The Host Club is scattered around the dance floor, guiding their partners into a simple waltz. I pause by a pillar, surveying the entire place. Satou did a good job with the streamers and Mei with the floor arrangements.

"Yuuka- _chan_!" Hana calls, hurrying over in her purple gown. "You look beautiful!"

Behind her, Sora nods. "Hello, Yuuka- _san._ "

I smile. "You look radiant, Hana- _chan_. Sora- _san_ too."

Hana flashes a victory sign. "My crew set up the lights outside. I can't wait for the sakura-viewing later! There's even going to be a surprise~"

"You're bad at keeping them," Sora says.

Hana rounds up on her. "Hey!"

It's then that I realise that there are people staring in our direction. Sora shrinks a little. Hana glares back at them, fingers securely wrapped around Sora's wrist.

"Let's get some food," Hana says, tugging Sora away.

The staring follows after them, as well as a few mutters. I scan the crowd, and find a familiar face stacking boxes by the side. Weaving in through the crowd, I walk towards a visibly trouble Toru. He's reading a letter, perplexed.

"You're here," I say.

Toru jumps, and scrambles to hide the letter. Upon seeing me, however, he pulls me to the side and shows it to me.

"I found this in my bag," he explains. "Do you know who it could be by?"

The comically exaggerated words are belted out in hot pink, with glitter strewn about the paper. I raise a brow, trying to hide a snicker at the confession letter. Toru sighs, oddly conflicted about the entire matter.

"They're asking to meet you in the classroom," I say. "Are you going?"

Toru shakes his head. "I'm already engaged."

I pause. "And leave them hanging?"

"It's not a secret," Toru says. "They'll know."

He folds the letter.

"Toru- _kun_ ," I say quickly before he can keep it. "You should make it clear to them. After all, they put themselves out there, writing this to you."

Toru halts, gaze lingering at the door. I follow it to find that Kasugazaki is purposefully striding through the doors. He chuckles dryly.

"I suppose," he says, "they did put themselves out there after all."

I'm about to reply, when a blonde ball lunges itself between us. There's a flicker of a cheeky smile, before Hani drags me off and sets me loose in the middle of the crowd. That was… strange. Kasugazaki seems as equally surprised, standing alone in the middle of the dancefloor. Without the Hosts, the guests begin to mill around. I find Sora and Hana waltzing under the moonlight, inspiring a few other ladies to do the same.

Kasugazaki is standing before the tables, her palms cupping a teacup lovingly. It's true. She does seem happier like this. By the time I'm aware, I'm right there with her.

"What is that?"

"It's a Worchester-" Kasugazaki narrows her eyes. "Nakahara."

"Kasugazaki- _san_ ," I say.

She huffs. "What is it?"

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," I say, reaching out. "I've never intended on-"

Kasugazaki shrugs me off, slapping my hand away. "And I'm not interested in listening. Excuse me."

She's promptly intercepted by Tamaki, who escorts her out the hall. I frown, lacing my fingers together.

"Yuu- _chan_!" Hani yells, parting the sea of gowns to catapult himself into my arms.

"Hani- _senpai_ ," I greet, and then to Mori behind him, "Mori- _senpai_."

"I'm sorry for earlier, Yuu- _chan_ ," Hani wails. "But we had to! Can I make it up to you somehow? Should we dance?"

I shake my head. "I, um, never learned how to waltz."

Hani gasps. "It's alright! Takashi can lead you!"

Now, imagine a hippopotamus drenched in pink paint, wandering about the desert, leaving bright pink footprints across the land it crosses. Now, imagine that hippopotamus sprinkled with glitter on a white expanse of snow. That is about as subtle as the interference Hani is running now.

I look up at Mori, who is avidly projecting no emotion on his face. Hani bounces on the balls of his feet, eager and bright-eyed. I look between them, and then at the crowd surrounding us. This isn't good. It's a swatch of deep purple and maroons and tiaras and diamond necklaces. There it is – that strange feeling of being watched from afar. Hani has my hands in his firm hold. I can't – find my voice.

"May I have this dance?" Mori says, guiding Hani to the side.

Hani immediately disperses the crowd, pulling them into a long line of group dancing. I remember to breathe.

"Yes," I say, taking his hand.

Mori guides me carefully, hand on my waist. It's warm. I look down at my feet, trying not trip or worse, step on his shoes.

"Relax," Mori murmurs, and we make a turn.

"Yes," I can only say, eyes glued to my school shoes. I'd forgotten to change out of those.

"Nakahara- _san_ ," he says, sending a jolt down my spine. "Look at me."

I do so, meeting the same shade of black. It's a little darker now that we're indoors, framed by long lashes.

"You look pretty tonight," he says, matter-of-factly.

Something flickers in me. It's cold. We take another step, and I immediately step on his shoes. To his credit, Mori doesn't once flinch. I whisper an apology, and hurriedly step off him. We take another step, and nearly collide into another couple.

I can't feel my legs. It's awkward, terribly awkward.

My hands are turning too cold and wet at this point. I pull them out of his.

"I'm sorry, Mori- _senpai_ ," I say, and my vision blurs.

I rush out, pushing past tulles and cold shoulders and then out a set of wooden doors. My head aches, thudding dully behind my ears. Dammit.

"Nakahara- _san_ ," Mori says, closing the door behind him gently.

I try to shake my head, but it hurts.

"Nakahara- _san_ ," Mori says, walking to my side. He holds up a hand, shaded unnaturally dark in this dim corridor. "You're bleeding."

* * *

Having my hand re-bandaged in the infirmary is perhaps not the way I would have expected my ball to go, but here we are. Mori hands me a sweet from Shun's desk, and I bite into its creamy caramel. He works carefully, but efficiently, tucking the gauze securely in.

"Are you afraid of crowds?" Mori says.

I shake my head. "Not really. I worked with children when I was in the hospital. It was just unnerving, somehow, earlier. Maybe the fact that I was bleeding worsened it."

He catches me staring at the jar of sweets, and passes me another.

"I'm sorry," I say, twisting the sweet in my free hand.

"You did a good job with the decorations," Mori says simply.

I smile. "Thank you. You should head back, right? Or Kyoya- _san_ will be having your head."

Mori says nothing for a moment, turning his head to look out the window. Unabashedly staring at him, I find myself charting the lines of his face – looking almost sculpted, sharp and dashing. It's highlighted by the sleekness of his black suit. Classic, cool and impenetrable. But his eyes are soft when they return to meet mine.

"Nakahara- _san_ ," Mori says, and my stomach does a little twirl of its own. "You can be selfish."

Maybe this is why he's a Host, too. It's so uncannily earnest that I find myself leaning in. But before I can further my train of thought, I snap back and keep my gaze down.

"We don't want to miss the sakura-viewing," I say, pleasant. "Let's head back."

Mori nods, offering his arm to me. I take it. By the time we reach the hall, the viewing has begun. Mori excuses himself to join the rest of the Host Club, and I pick out Hana from a sea of equally excitable faces. She holds up her hand, and an extremely large bouquet of orange roses, waving. I rejoin her and Sora.

"You're in time for the surprise!" Hana cries, and points at the middle of the pathway.

I squint. Toru and Kasugazaki are right under the spotlight. Toru bows and holds a hand out to her, a beseeching look on his face. She smiles, and accepts. I breathe a sigh of relief. The awkward couple begins waltzing perfectly under blossoming flowers.

"Tonight's dance queen is hereby declared to be Kasugazaki Kanako- _hime_!" the twins exclaim into their microphones.

"Now then, the blessed kiss from the king…"

"…has been switched to Fujioka Haruhi!"

Hana begins chortling, while Sora and I exchange bewildered looks. Sora's gaze flits down to Hana's mirthful one, and she sighs, picking a petal from Hana's hair. I turn back to the main event, feeling sorely like I'm interrupting something. At that moment, Tamaki rushes and slams into Haruhi's back. Haruhi falls forward, and plants a kiss on Kasugazaki's lips. The entire crowd bursts into a collective gasp, and then squeals.

 _What a night._

* * *

Chauffer Yin doesn't comment on my bandaged hand. He sees me to the doorstep, however, and stands behind us as Mom fusses over me. I smile, placing my hand over hers.

"Yuuka," Mom says, serious. "We're going for a check-up tomorrow, right after school."

"Mom," I say.

"This is non-negotiable, you hear me," Mom repeats, brows furrowing.

"We have a physical examination in school – first thing on Friday," I say.

Mom shakes her head again. "I don't trust anyone with you except for your assigned doctor."

I bite my lip. Throughout my hospital stay, while I was assigned to Ootoro Yuuichi, that was merely in name. It was really the nurses who cared for me. That, and a kind but naive medical student by the name of Akito. But Mom didn't know that.

"Alright," I say. "Chauffer Yin can drop me off tomorrow."

Chauffer Yin nods, and Mom smiles tiredly at him. She pulls me into the apartment, and lets her gaze run over my gown.

"Now that I'm done fussing, let me see how beautiful my daughter is," she says. "Wait, let me get a picture."

I groan. "Mom."

There are bags under her eyes, and as she fumbles to get her phone, it's clear that her hands are trembling from over-caffeinating. I take the phone from her and snap a quick selfie.

"There," I say. "I'll be wearing this dress to other occasions too. Let's distribute the fussing over a couple of galas."

She chuckles, and takes my hand in hers. "Alright. You really do have your father's wit."

"And my mom's unrivalled charms," I add.

"Naturally," she says, smirking. "I guess you're in safe hands – this was done properly."

I look at the bandage. "Ah, Mori- _senpai_ helped me out."

"Hmm, Mori…" she says, and tries to hide a yawn.

"Morinozuka Takashi," I remind.

But Mom's near-dozing on the spot. I guide her to her room, murmuring an assent at every slurred sentence she says. Once she's tucked in, I return to my own room. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I can't help but twirl around a little.

 _'You look pretty tonight_.'

* * *

 **AN:** Reviews greatly appreciated as usual!


	5. use the sleeves of my sweater

**AN:** A shorter one, but I'm just really excited for the one after this!

 **WARNING: This chapter contains a scene where a character suffers an anxiety attack (between "We narrowly avoid crashing into a disgruntled doctor." and "The first nurse nods...")**

 _Harajuku103:_ Thank you! I'm glad, I kind of really like that dress too hehe. I'm glad you picked up on how Hani's steering the conversation and their directions simultaneously, only for them to reach a bit of an impasse at the windows. I like to think that Hani's silently sussing Yuuka out to see if she's worthy. It's also interesting to hear what you thought about Yuuka as a passive character! She really does overthink.

 _DominoDuh:_ Thank you so much! I'm really so happy to be receiving your review :') It really brightened up my day! I'm glad you like Yuuka too - it's always a concern of mine that she can come off as too dull or muted, especially since she isn't a particularly big character in the sense that the entire Host Club is swept up into a storm by her. In fact, I think besides Kyoya, Hani and Mori, the rest of the club isn't particularly aware of her existence ;;

About Mori, that's something I've always wanted to explore! I think Mori appears very quiet simply because Hani is the louder and more expressive one. It's not that he's being shut off, but more like he listens and then lets his actions do the conversing for him. But with quieter people, he makes sure that they feel at ease - which is why he tells Yuuka that she's pretty. He _is_ a Host, after all!

 _synpitou:_ Thank you so much! I'm glad you find Yuuka refreshing haha. I've been reading a bunch of OC-fics in OHSHC, and there are a few really good ones too :D I've just been struggling to make Yuuka part of this entire narrative since her premise doesn't allow her to just stick into the middle of the Host Club and join them on their various adventures. Let's hope Hani makes good use of Yuuka's phone number hmmmmmmmmmmmmm

* * *

 _use the sleeves of my sweater_

* * *

There is a gulf between the sick and the healthy that can never really be bridged. Sure, the healthy fall sick all the time, but soon after, they recover, and they forget what it felt like – all becomes part of a hazy dream. And even when it's right before them, they're caught up in the fog of their own insecurities that they never really look at you. Sometimes, I think that's how Mom and Chauffer Yin see me; veiled behind an entangled mess of tubes and paperwork. Most times, I'm proven right.

"I'm afraid I can't make it to the Host Club today," I say.

"Really? Why?" Hana immediately wails.

Tamaki, who is conveniently within earshot, barges into our conversation. "Why not, my lady?"

Aoi shrinks in his seat and averts his eyes. I smile at him.

"I'm going to the hospital for a check-up," I say.

Hana immediately 'ooh's. "I hate the hospital."

Tamaki nods. "It's terrible, one time I went there…"

He begins recounting his adventures of shoddy healthcare systems until they realised that he was in fact, rich. Kyoya, standing behind Tamaki, sighs and corrects him on the many different facilities in a hospital. Hana steals a piece of my fruit, amazed at how healthy my lunch is. The subject soon changes into something about public and private hospitals.

I leave right after lunch.

* * *

It's good to see some familiar faces. Though my doctor keeps changing (fill-ins because the actual, elusive Ootori Yuuichi is incredibly busy), the nurses stay the same. Juri takes note of the new line of medication they'd like me to try out, frowning when I mention the recent headaches I've been getting. She presses a sweet into my hand, winking.

"You're still a child, Yuuka," Juri says. "Now, whoever patched your hand up did a good job."

I smile. "Yeah, he did."

"Ooh," Juri says, nudging me. "Who's this lucky young lad?"

"A senior," I say. "Besides, Juri, isn't that guy a little suspicious?"

Juri follows my gaze, spotting a cloaked figure. She chokes up laughing, and smacks me a little too hard on the back. I wince, but Juri pays no mind. That's Juri for you. She wipes a tear from her eyes.

"Oh, no, no," she chuckles. "You probably never ran into him, but that is Nekozawa Umehito- _sama_ ; he's a regular here for behavioural therapy."

The cloaked figure slowly becomes less suspicious and more curious as he fumbles around with the directory, movements slow and jolting. The puppet in his hands begins to wilt, too. I blink. It's a faded yellow, but there's something vaguely… familiar? about it.

"Come to think of it, he goes to Ouran, like you," Juri says.

I nod absentmindedly. "He looks lost, we should help him."

Juri grins, and walks up to the figure. He's lost in thought, mumbling surreptitiously to his puppet. I clear my throat, and he jolts so hard the puppet nearly falls off his hands. Its eyes seem to gaze balefully back at Nekozawa.

"Nekozawa- _san_ , I'm Nakahara Yuuka," I introduce. "This is Nurse Juri. You look a little lost, do you need help?"

Nekozawa begins hemming and hawing, hiding his puppet into his cloak quickly. "I, uh, it's, uh- you, I."

His breathing quickens, becomes shallower. Juri and I exchange looks.

Juri nods patiently. "How about we move to the lounge on the fifth floor? It's a lot dimmer there."

Nekozawa fidgets uncomfortably. "…yes, please."

Juri keeps her gait light, chatter fine and free above the other sounds of the hospital. I walk a little in front of them, shielding Nekozawa from the oncoming traffic. By the time we get to the lounge, he seems a little more relaxed, no longer under the scrutiny of harsh lighting. He's still hunched over, though now his shoulders aren't tensed up, and it seems more a habit than ever.

"Nakahara Yuuka," Nekozawa says. "You're Yuu- _chan_ from the twelfth floor."

Twelfth floor is the paediatric ward for in-patients. I nod. Nekozawa seems a little flustered, as he tries to rephrase his thoughts. I fold my hands in my lap, exchanging an equally perplexed look with Juri.

"You… I heard of you," Nekozawa says slowly, and the puppet – I blink twice – blushes pink. "You are as pale as the winter snow, like she said… a 'princess of the light'…"

"Do you know him, Yuuka?" Juri whispers, loud enough for Nekozawa to hear too.

Nekozawa straightens up immediately, wincing at the cringe in his back. "Ah! I'm Nekozawa Umehito, this is Beelzenef."

"Pleased to meet you, Nekozawa- _san_ ," I say.

Beelzenef rises up, unblinking eyes staring at me. "P-please, call me Umehito."

"Oh, I will, Umehito- _san_ ," I say. "You can call me Yuuka."

Beelzenef flushes an even brighter shade of red – I must be seeing things. "Yuuka- _san_ …"

"Yes?" I say.

There's not much of him that I can see. His face is shaded by the shadow of his hood, and the way he seems to be curling into himself is a little makes it even harder to tell what he's muttering.

"I can't hear you, Umehito- _san_ ," I say, and he jolts.

"…will you be my friend?"

I chuckle, unable to help myself. Beelzenef lowers, and Umehito is looking at me through black bangs. "I will, Umehito- _san_."

"You… will?" Umehito repeats, staring incredulously. "I, I mean, of course, the darkness never fails to find a kindred spirit. In fact, where there is light there must be shadows-"

"Umehito- _san_ ," I say, before he can continue his talks about darkness. "You looked lost earlier. Did you need help?"

Umehito balks, "Well, I – yes, I was actually looking for the… gift shop."

Juri grins. "Yuuka can bring you there, can't you?"

I nod, rising to my feet. Umehito stumbles over his own shoes, and I try to hide a smile at that. Rolling my eyes at Juri, I lead the way out of the lounge and down to the very first floor. Umehito keeps his distance a little behind me, startling every time I turn around to check on him.

"Would you walk by me, Umehito- _san_?" I ask finally. "I would like to talk to you."

"Oh," Umehito says, and hurries a little forward. "Yes?"

"You're in Ouran too, are you?" I ask.

Umehito nods. "Yes, I am in my third year."

"Ah, I shall have to call you _senpai_ in that case," I muse.

Umehito shakes his head. "N-no, fellow patrons of the darkness need not distinguish themselves according to the norms of society."

"Fellow patrons of the darkness?"

At that, Umehito straightens a little with pride, and I can hear a smile behind his words. "As the President of the Black Magic Club, I must insist. Darkness thrives in the sleight of the light. In the Minotaur's maze we are all the same. Trapped without respite, left to _rot_ in our own sins."

I raise a brow. Umehito immediately shuffles back to his side, Beelzenef hanging loosely off his wrist.

"What about the golden thread?" I ask.

Umehito looks at me, pausing in his tracks. "Oh, well, that."

We reach the gift shop. I pick up a plush toy sewn into the shape of a cat's head.

"Perhaps we don't have to be trapped without respite, or left to rot in our own sins," I suggest, butting the plush toy against Beelzenef's head.

Umehito stares at the cat butting its head against Beelzenef's head. "It might be easier for creatures of the light to declare so… but for some of us, the darkness is a solace we can only retreat to."

He takes the cat from my hand, as though weighing it against Beelzenef. For some reason, guilt blooms in my chest. Juri said that Umehito was in for behavioural therapy, didn't she? I hold a hand over his, and Umehito jumps, gaping at me.

"Umehito- _san_ ," I say, "if you don't mind, I'd like to visit the Black Magic Club once."

He swallows, Adam's apple bobbing frantically in his throat. "Y-yes, please do."

* * *

Friday swings around a little too soon. I'm only just realising that I have no idea what Hirose- _sensei_ wanted from me, save for the fact that I only had a time and place. I frown, playing with the plaster on my wrist. Hana's bouncing her knee excitedly, and when Kurosawa- _sensei_ finally announces something, Hana jumps up.

"Yuuka- _chan_!" Hana squeals, "It's time for the physical examination!"

I look at her. "You're excited."

Hana makes a disbelieving noise. "Of course! Now, hurry, I think 3A's already in line!"

"3A?"

Hana's tugging me out of my seat and into the crowded corridors. It's apparently a big deal, because there's a mass exodus of equally excitable girls rushing into Edogawa Hall. It's brightly lit, and for a moment I wonder if Umehito is going to be alright.

"Can you see?" Hana exclaims in my ear.

I look over a shoulder, tiptoeing to get a better glance. "What am I supposed to see?"

Hana's grip on my wrist is relentless. Together, we wind up squeezing to the front of the crowd. Hani and Mori are dressed in doctor's coats, with nondescript glasses on. Hani is trying his best to smile, as is… Mori? Mori turns back, gaze lowering until they meet mine. I smile, and he nods back.

"What's going on?" I ask Hana.

Hana shrugs. "All I know is that Hani- _senpai_ said that this would be interesting!"

Hani backtracks to where we are, incurring another round of muted squeals. Cupping a hand over his mouth, he whispers, "We're undercover!"

"I see," I say, as Hana mouths, "You're not supposed to tell us, Hani- _senpai_!"

Hani nods stoically, and returns to his post. As the wait continues, the crowd behind us gets more impatient. A few girls are squirming at their spots, straining to get a better look. And then a hand, or something warm and blunt, slams into my shoulder. I trip over, knees bearing the brunt of the impact. Hana's by my side immediately, as is Hani. I grip onto her arm, pulling myself up.

"Are you okay?" Hana says, swatting at imaginary dust on my skirt.

"Yes," I say. "Thanks, Hana- _chan_ , Hani- _senpai_."

Hani pretends to play doctor, but when I look up, Mori is staring into the crowd, eyes narrowed.

"Does anywhere hurt?" Hani asks.

"I'm alright, Hani- _senpai_ ," I say.

Hani clears his throat, and pretends to scribble on a clipboard. "Okay then! You'll need to take more care. Takashi will be in charge of monitoring your health."

"Yes," Mori plays along, finally looking down at us.

Something's stuck in my throat. I can't find a word to say. Fortunately, there's a collective gasp, and Mori turns back to see the curtains being pulled open. Tamaki, in a brown wig, walks out shirtless.

"It is I, Fujioka Haruhi," he announces with a straight face, determination practically shining in his eyes. "I'm ready for my examination."

…Hana bursts out laughing, followed by the twins. Tamaki blinks, once, and then twice, and finally a third time. He whirls around, stabbing his index finger into the twins' chests, demanding an explanation. Even Kyoya, who's usually a picture of composure, pushes his glasses up with a terrifyingly mischievous glint. Hana giggles, practically jumping on the spot. Mori sees this, and I think I see a smile on his lips for the shortest minute. I glance down immediately, fingers lacing together.

We watch as Haruhi is escorted off to another room. Disappointed, the crowd disperses, and Hana and I follow.

After much of the initial amusement fades, I can't help but wonder. Tamaki was taking Haruhi's place because he didn't want Haruhi to go shirtless in front of a crowd of people. Why? And the rest of the Host Club allowed him to go ahead with it, even if ultimately they had a plan to prevent Haruhi from being exposed.

"That was hilarious, oh my god," Hana exclaims, "but Tamaki had me convinced almost, for a second. I've got to get him back for my dad's new film."

I nod, shoulder involuntarily flinching when Hana slings her arm around me.

"Yuuka- _chan_?" Hana echoes.

I turn to look at her. Something… strange must be on my face right now. I try to right it, but it's so incredibly sour and bitter, my smile. I shake my head.

"Yes?" I say.

"No, you just looked…" Hana hesitates. "Anyway, Sora texted me. They're all waiting at the other hall."

"Oh," I say. "That reminds me, I should tell Toru- _kun_ about this."

"Toru- Suzushima?" Hana asks. "You're still in contact?"

"Surprisingly," I say, pulling out my phone and typing in a text. "He needs more advice on love."

Hana laughs, ruffling my head. "I didn't know you were the love goddess, Yuuka- _chan_!"

"No," I say, sighing. "I haven't even been able to talk to Kasugazaki- _san_ since the ball."

Hana flips her hair over her shoulders. "Well, maybe it's just not meant to be. Not everyone's going to be friends."

I shrug, letting Hana meander me across the halls and towards our destination.

 _You [0824]:_ Guess what?

 _You [0824]:_ Tamaki- _san_ posed as Fujioka- _kun_ for our physical examination.

 _Toru [0825]:_ Really?

 _Toru [0825]:_ Why do I miss out on all the good things when I'm gone?

 _You [0825]:_ I don't understand why though.

 _Toru [0826]:_ Why not?

 _You [0826]:_ Why not let Fujioka- _kun_ show his chest?

 _Toru [0828]:_ Well, maybe he doesn't want to?

"Yuuka- _chan_!" Hana exclaims, dragging me to the side.

We narrowly avoid crashing into a disgruntled doctor. He mutters an apology, reeking and dishevelled. Hana clings to my elbow, grip tight. The doctor brushes his bangs, and puts his hat on. He hovers unsteadily on the spot, and then turns to face us. Hana gulps audibly, and I can feel her shaking.

"Hana- _chan_ ," I say, shielding her with my body.

Something about this man terrifies her.

"Excuse me," the doctor croaks, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Do you-"

"NO!" Hana screams. "No, no, no- no- no, _STOP_!"

The doctor startles, as do I, and Hana collapses onto the floor. The doctor scuttles away, grey coat floating out after him. I kneel down beside Hana, confused. She's breathing hard, fists in her skirts, white-knuckled and strained. Though her lips are pressed together, she's making an incessant high-pitched whine. Her knees draw closer to her chest.

"No- no, not, no. I can't. One, t-two, three," Hana hiccups through her tears, wrecked by stutters. "F-f-f-four. Sora. Sora. Sora."

I place a hand over hers. "Hana, listen to my voice. Let's breathe together."

Hana tries nodding, but she's shaking too hard.

"One, two, three, four," I say, breathing in on the last count. "And five, six, seven, eight."

Hana complies.

"Good job," I say, rubbing circles on her fists. "Let's do that again. One, two, three, four…"

Her shoulders continue shaking.

"…Five, six, seven, eight," I say. "It's alright, you're doing great. I'm here. Now, one, two, three, four…"

Hana breathes out prematurely, chest trembling with exhaustion. "I can't- I can't breathe."

"You're doing a great job," I say, keeping my voice soft. "Listen to my voice. One, two, three, breathe in…"

She does, blinking tears away.

"And five, six, seven, out."

There are shadows looming over us. I place my body in front of Hana, tapping out a steady rhythm. She continues breathing, carefully, controlled. To the nurses who have come out to examine the commotion, I say,

"She's having an attack now, can you help me guide her to a room?"

The first nurse nods, and we help Hana up. Her grip tightens around my hand, clammy and cold.

"What happened?" the nurse asks. Her name is on her tag.

"There was a suspicious looking doctor who reached out for me," I say. "He didn't hurt us, but I believe he's here for someone else."

The nurse nods, and guides Hana to sit down on a bed. She drapes a blanket over Hana's hunched frame.

"I'll go inform security," the nurse says.

"Shiratori- _san_!" I call after her. "Please, if you could, ask for Mitsuha Sora."

Shiratori blinks, but nods. "Certainly."

I turn back to Hana, who has retreated into the woollen blanket. Together, we count up and down her breaths. It's unsettling to see her so distraught. We reach fifty, and Sora clambers in. She meets my eyes. I nod, allowing her the spot next to Hana instead. Sora smiles, and pulls Hana into a tight hug.

I make my way out of the room, allowing them some privacy. From the corner, Shiratori returns, Hani and Mori in tow.

"Yuu- _chan_!" Hani calls, looking worried despite his cheerful façade. "Is Hana- _chan_ okay?"

I frown. "Sora- _san_ is in there with her."

Hani nods, a severe look on his face. "Okay."

"Are you alright?" Mori asks.

I nod. "The doctor didn't hurt me."

"And Hana- _chan_ was doing so well…" Hani muses.

"Mitsukuni," Mori says. "She needs time."

"Right, Takashi," Hani says. "Yuu- _chan_ , that man wasn't a doctor. He'd gone to the wrong school to look for his daughter."

"I see." There's one thing I don't, however. "Why are you two here?"

Hani blinks. "We heard that Hana- _chan_ was hurt."

I don't push it any further. Instead, the three of us wait patiently. The sobs begin to subside after a few more moments, and then Sora's sliding the door open. She nods at Hani and Mori, who visibly relax.

"She's sleeping now," Sora says. "I'll stay with her until she wakes up."

"I'm glad, Sora- _chan_ ," Hani says, unusually serious. "Thank you."

"Thank you, Yuuka- _san_ ," Sora says, bowing deeply.

"Ah," I say. I'll have to ask Hana when she's awake. "Thank you."

The three of them exchange a few pleasantries before Sora returns to the room. I pull out my phone, feeling it vibrate.

 _Toru [0832]:_ You there?

 _Toru [0914]:_ I'm turning in for the night.

 _You [0915]:_ Sorry, got caught up. Good night!

"Who are you texting, Yuu- _chan_?" Hani asks, reverting to his usual carefree self.

"Toru- _kun_ ," I say. "He's in England now."

"Oh! Toru- _kun_ has your number?" Hani says, eyes wide.

I nod. "We talk from time to time."

"Hmm," Hani thinks, and then bounces back up, metaphorical flowers blooming over his head like a halo. "Can I have your number too, Yuu- _chan_?"

"Oh," I say. "Sure."

Hani tugs out his phone, attached with a giant Usa- _chan_ phone strap. Every button I push reciprocates with a gentle note. When I'm done, I pass it back to Hani, who cheers.

"Now we can text too!" Hani says.

I wait. Mori doesn't say anything.

"Right, Hani- _senpai_ ," I say. "I should be getting back to class."

Hani waves with his whole arm. Mori's staring back at where we left Hana. I wind up passing by the same swan statue three times, and get to class a little too late.

* * *

The lecture theatre is surprisingly quiet. I enter from the back, just in time to see Hirose- _sensei_ stand up and let the projector screen snap all the way up. A few students jump at the loud crack, and a few more emboldened ones just exchange looks. They don't look familiar – perhaps this is for a separate year?

"Uh, Yuuka- _san_ ," Umehito mutters, and a few students next to him scramble away to other seats. "You can sit here with me if you'd like."

I smile, and Umehito curls up in his seat. "You're in Hirose- _sensei_ 's class?"

"He's covering absurdism this week," Umehito says.

"I see," I say. "Albert Camus?"

Umehito nods. "You did the reading?"

"Reading?"

Umehito reaches into the depths of his cloak and pulls out a thick stack of notes. I look back at my measly notebook, and shrug.

"Hirose- _sensei_ didn't say anything."

Umehito nods sagely, and stiffens as Hirose- _sensei_ begins speaking.

"If you're not going to put in effort for the next hour, consider yourselves dismissed," Hirose- _sensei_ says, writing on the blackboard.

No one moves.

Hirose- _sensei_ turns around, satisfied. "Good. Now, someone, tell me what absurdism is."

A few hands shoot up in the air. Hirose- _sensei_ points at a shy looking girl.

"Absurdism explores the fundamental nature of the Absurd and how we as individuals, once conscious of it, should respond to it. Albert Camus once said that humans should continue to embrace the Absurd of the human condition."

She pauses, waiting for his reaction. Hirose- _sensei_ holds up his hand. Even I, seated at the back, can feel the tension cutting across the entire room.

"Thank you, Kitagawa- _kun_ ," Hirose- _sensei_ says. "Nakahara Yuuka."

I rise, and everyone turns around to face me. Hirose- _sensei_ crosses his arms.

"Nakahara- _kun_ , do you think that was a good explanation by Kitagawa- _kun_?"

Kitagawa's head is bowed. At this distance, I can't see what's on her face. Taking a deep breath, I say,

"No."

Hirose- _sensei_ raises a brow. "Why not?"

"I don't understand what absurdism is," I say. "Or what the Absurd is."

Hirose- _sensei_ nods. "Now, Kitagawa- _kun_ , could you do that again?"

"Yes, Hirose- _sensei_ ," Kitagawa's shoulders tremble. She turns to me, and a cold chill runs down my spine. "Nakahara- _kun_ , the Absurd refers to the conflict between the human tendency to seek inherent value and meaning in life and the human inability to find meaning in an irrational, chaotic world."

I look back into her face. Something terrible flashes across her face, and then it's gone in an instant. I've never met her before. And yet… But perhaps she was upset at being corrected.

"Thank you, Kitagawa- _kun_ ," Hirose- _sensei_ says. "Nakahara- _kun_ , explain what she just said."

I'm in the middle of sitting back down. At that, I stand back up again.

"Kitagawa- _san_ said that absurdism is a conflict between our desire to find meaning in the world and our inability to find it because of how the world is so chaotic," I say.

Hirose- _sensei_ says, "Simpler."

"Simpler?"

"Imagine you're explaining to a five year old child," Hirose- _sensei_ says. "Simpler."

I pause. "Absurdism is what we want from the world but what we cannot find because it is so messy."

Hirose- _sensei_ nods. "Now, do you understand it?"

"Yes," I say.

"Haninozuka- _kun_ ," Hirose- _sensei_ calls, and I startle. "Do you understand what Nakahara- _kun_ just said?"

Hani rises from his seat in the front. "Yes, Hirose- _sensei_."

"Sit, Nakahara- _kun_. Haninozuka- _kun_ , tell me, what was the point of me asking Kitagawa- _kun_ and then Nakahara- _kun_?"

Hani thinks it over for a moment. I spot Mori right beside him, reading glasses and all. A sudden heat runs over my face, and I bend my head over my notebook, pretending to scribble.

"An explanation should be as simple as possible, while staying true to the definition?" Hani suggests.

Hirose- _sensei_ nods. "Good. Now, onto lesson proper."

I try my best to stay alert, jotting down ideas and concepts meticulously. But sometime in the middle of lesson, I find myself drifting away, mind blank. And at the end of it, my notebook is filled with more question than answers. I can feel an oncoming headache. Hirose- _sensei_ doesn't make it easy either, glancing at his watch and then seeking questions. His gaze turns on mine, and I feel compelled to ask.

"Hirose- _sensei_ ," I say, drawing more eyes to me. "We've been talking about finding meaning in the Absurd, but what exactly is meaning?"

Hirose- _sensei_ smiles. "What do you think?"

"It can be what we make of it, or it can be inherent in the universe," I say. "But how can we know if we've found it?"

Hirose- _sensei_ shrugs. "A good question. There is no way of knowing."

"And that's the chase," I say.

Hirose- _sensei_ smiles, and raises his brow at the other students. No one speaks. He glances at his watch, and then dismisses us all right on time. As I pack my things, Umehito slinks out of the lecture theatre with a whispered goodbye. I rise from my seat to join the flurry of students walking down the stairs.

"Yuu- _chan_!" Hani's voice peaks from somewhere below.

I walk over, mindful of the many students who are either crowding around the two Hosts or trying to squeeze their way out.

"Hani- _senpai_ ," I say, and then to Mori, "Mori- _senpai_."

"You're very smart," Hani says, and then to Mori, "Don't you think so?"

Mori takes his reading glasses off and places them in their case. "Yes."

I laugh awkwardly, and resist the urge to tuck my hair behind my ear. My entire head is burning up, and I shift from one foot to the other.

"Is Hana- _san_ alright?" Mori asks.

"She left for home early, so I didn't get to ask," I say. "I'll be checking in with her tonight."

Mori nods, and turns around to face inquiries from another girl.

"And will you be joining us at the Host Club today?" Hani chirps.

I press a hand to the clammy heat of my neck. "I'm afraid not."

Hani follows my gaze. "Oh."

"I'm not feeling too well," I add. "See you next week, Hani- _senpai_."

"See you, Yuu- _chan_!"

And with that, I rush back home, a sinking feeling of embarrassment and discomfort in my stomach.

* * *

 _Toru [2113]:_ And you went home?

 _You [2114]:_ I'm not feeling very well.

 _Toru [2114]:_ Oh, how the tables have turned.

 _You [2114]:_ What do you mean?

 _You [2120]:_ Suzushima Toru!

* * *

The golden tube of lipstick is still standing on my desk. I uncap it and unscrew the bottom. There, a perfectly shaped bullet doused in blood-red. I hold it up against the light, and it stays true – a burning, vivid shade. My palm's slowly healing from the cut, and I briefly remember a warm caress across my knuckles. Unease creeps up my spine and nestles against the back of my head. It hurts, but it's not the worst I've had.

 _Maybe I'll have to take some painkillers_ , I think, and cap the lipstick.

It glimmers in my hand, heavy. I don't think I'll wear it out, ever. I exhale, trying to ease the throbbing behind my ears, and slide back against my chair. Outside, the sky bears the brunt of envy, burnt emerald and smoking grey. The moon is obscured, a sliver of a smirk amid the clouds. I'm not a superstitious one, but I've always been right with my gut – not only is it an excellent indicator of my physical health quite literally, it's been quite spot-on about various changes in my life.

And right now, there's a storm coming. Some things are about to take a turn for better or worse.

* * *

 **AN:** Your reviews really keep me motivated :D


	6. let's have an adventure

**AN:** school's been pretty busy, but here we go with the next chapter! In this one I wanted to explore a bit more of Yuuka when she was a child, so around 8 or 9? I didn't really think too hard about her age.

 _EthaGrinndt:_ Thank you so much! I really love hearing from readers what they think haha. Yep, I thought it was a nice touch to have Toru keep in touch with Yuuka - though at the moment I haven't quite figured out a use for it hmm. And yes, Nekozawa has a crush on Yuuka! I'm trying to build up to a later chapter - dropping hints here and there, especially in this chapter too! As for how Yuuka feels about Mori, well, I think it's still quite on the edge here because Yuuka is holding back quite a bit. But, well, as promised, _something_ is definitely in the works. And yes! The chapter titles are from sweater weather, I quite like that song but also because the title of the entire story was related to this Big Plot Idea I had. It's kind of ironic in a way.

 _Harajuku103:_ Hope I didn't disappoint with this update, which took a longer time but is slightly longer than the other chapters! I think you'll enjoy young-Yuuka's thought process here in this chapter hehe. Mm, I've always thought that Yuuka couldn't be completely privy to all of Host Club's secrets and dynamics. She's just watching from the outside, or feeling like that I think. Hana's backstory is something I'm not sure I want to bring up at all, actually. It's just a side note to myself, but I think it'll have to come in at a later chapter anyway, so stay tuned!

 **Warning: Implicit mentions of death - (1) "they were yelling code blue..." to "..or code yellow or code pink?" AND (2) 'One, two, three, four...' to "...it's just an accident."**

* * *

 _let's have an adventure_

* * *

 _"Akito!" I'm screaming, even though I'm not supposed to._

 _The calls echo down this hallway, and I continue running. The tiles and walls are all pristine, frames of artworks hanging on either sides. I'm too tall, here, forcing perspectives. The hall stutters to a stop when I reach a fork._

 _For some reason, I know that Juri is down the hall on the right. The wards are all closed and quiet. I gaze, and then I can't stop looking. It's the same it's always been, but now there's an undeniable shiver running across the walls._

 _Dread bubbles in my chest. It's empty. The place is silent. I can't hear myself either. For some reason I know that they're all gone. No one is left. I can't move._

 _I can't breathe._

 _The whiteness blinks, grins brighter. The lights overhead shrink. I stretch my mouth open, and scream._

* * *

Sweltering; the heat. Fever is tart on my lips, harsh between pants and each strangled gasp. My head spins, whirls, turns pricks and needles against itself. I can't move my hands, nor my feet.

There's static on my chest, weighing it down. Every breath is carefully negotiated, and I watch as the shadows in the corner take on a shapeless monster. My arms are weak and clammy, but my back burns.

 _I have to get up_. Static blooms in the corners of my vision, flaring red and green.

Sleep paralysis is no stranger. I've had them from the time I was young, but over the past few weeks, I thought they'd subsided. Wriggling my toes, I manage to bring some sensation back to my limbs. The tide of static threatens to pull me back.

I breathe. I breathe, and breathe.

And it recedes. Limp, I lie against damp sheets in a daze. It's too hot. I sit up, gathering just enough strength to hoist myself off the bed. For a moment my sight goes completely black. I sway, reaching for a wall. And then it readjusts into shadows of furniture or the dim acknowledgment from the moonlight.

It's suffocating. My head feels like it's completely blocked out, stuck in an invisible barrier. Muted. I thump against the switch, wincing when the bathroom light turns on. The tiles are cold. Everything is so much colder now. I can't fight the chill that runs up my arms.

There are painkillers in the cabinet behind the mirror. I just need to get to them. Huffing through my mouth, I step over, hands gripping for purchase on anything. This fever feels worse than anything I've had before. _God, just._

I wrench the cabinet open with more force than I wanted, and it rattles angrily. There. In the orange bottle, my pills. I shake two out, but miss, and a couple more fall into the sink. _Dammit_.

Swallowing dry is worse than I remember. I blanch, trying to get rid of the bitter swell in my mouth. My back blazes on. _God, why does everything hurt?_

I'll just. Take a seat. Here. Rest my cheek against the tub. Yes.

I sigh, and shut my eyes. The whirl of my fan continues, drowning out all thought.

* * *

" _Did you know, Akito-nii-chan?" I say, pushing his book down. "There was an emergency on the twentieth floor last night."_

 _Akito looks at me, cautious, and puts his book away. "You mean Hashimoto-san?"_

 _I nod. "I heard a lot of shouting."_

" _Isn't the twentieth floor a little too far away?" Akito says, narrowing his eyes._

 _I wave his concerns away, clutching onto the rails of your bed. "Doesn't matter."_

 _He doesn't need to know that I had snuck out to the stairwell in hopes of trying to get up to the roof. There's only so many flights of stairs you can take with an IV drip attached to your hand. That, and an inability to walk without feeling faint. But I digress. There are more mysteries to tackle._

" _They were yelling code blue," I say, giving him my best impression of a curious heroine. Juri always reads those books to me, and she says they always get their way. I think I'll get mine too._

" _Well…"_

" _What does code blue mean?" I press. "Does that mean he was going to die?"_

 _Akito frowns. "How do you know all this, Yuuka-chan?"_

" _They sounded very serious, Akito-nii-chan,"I say. "Are there other colours? Like, code green… or code yellow or code pink?"_

 _Akito doesn't look like he wants to say anything, even though he has something to say. He's only a few years older than me, but it's unfair that he gets to read all those thick books with pastel diagrams in them and labels. I'm home-schooled, sure, but Juri and all my other tutors say that I'm quite brilliant._

" _There are," he says finally._

" _Tell me then!" I snap, impatient._

 _Akito chuckles. "You're such a child."_

" _Of course I am," I retort. "What else would I be?"_

 _He shrugs. "You're right."_

 _But before I can continue investigating, there's a harried looking nurse outside. She's new, so I didn't get to read her nametag. But she knocks twice and bows, low, to Akito. Akito must be quite a charming prince from some faraway land, the way all the nurses titter around him. But to me, he's just a brother fitted into an overgrown suit and black glasses._

" _Ooto- ah!" the nurse jumps and pales. "I mean, Akito-sama, your father is looking for you."_

 _He sighs, and rises from his chair. "I understand."_

 _The nurse flushes. I don't understand. Akito has black hair. Don't most princes have blonde hair? And blue eyes, too._

" _See you, Yuuka-chan," he says._

 _And on that note, I don't understand why Akito keeps coming here. It's not as though there aren't libraries or lounges where he can read in peace. The one time I'd asked him, he said that it's "marginally better than the morgue". I don't know what that place is. Juri had flinched quite terribly when I asked her, and she made me promise not to talk about it anymore._

" _See you, Akito-nii-chan," I say._

 _He leaves the room, as does the nurse. She smiles kindly at me. But she's obviously on edge. I grin back – and the sight of my chipped tooth allows her shoulders to fall. Adults are so typical._

 _Look, Akito even left his book here._

* * *

When I come to, my cheek's pressed up against the chill of the bathtub. My hair's all clustered at the base of my neck, thick with sweat. I groan, and push myself up. The sudden movement tears at my vision, blurs black and gaudy. I shut my eyes, wait, and reopen them. The bathroom is as brightly lit as I remember.

 _At least the painkillers worked,_ I think, patting my neck. The fever's subsided for now.

There's still an ache in my lower back, though. I have to get dressed and look suitably healthy before Mom wakes up. Just the thought of the hospital makes me nauseated. So I strip, folding my clothes and placing them in the laundry basket, and step gingerly into the bathtub.

As I run the bath, I can't help thinking back to the strange memory in my dream. It was nothing pivotal, really, but it still unnerves me a little. If my mind serves me right, Akito returned to claim his book the next evening, and we chatted a bit about algorithms. And then he lent me more books about the ethics of medicine.

I sigh, scrubbing myself clean. It's only a silly childhood memory. There's no use reading too much into things like that.

I get out of the tub and find my bedroom soaked in the golden rays of a Saturday morning sun. It's a good start to the day. Perhaps I'll indulge myself in a good shirt today. Walking over to the closet, I find a button-up blouse. It's a soft, pink number. I tuck the ends into a denim skirt, and check myself in the mirror. The uneven tuck is to be expected, but still presentable.

Mom has already headed out. I find a note on the dining table detailing her apology – she'll be gone for the weekend, and then some. There's even a doodle of her awkwardly laughing at the bottom. I shake my head. I should send her a message.

I return to my room, searching for my phone. There's already a message.

 _Hana [0734]:_ lets hangout today!

 _Hana [0734]:_ i rly want some waffles

 _Hana [0734]:_ i can get mori- _senpai_ to come too

 _You [0810]:_ Sorry for the late reply, I'd like to hang out if the offer still stands!

 _Hana [0810]:_ yes!

 _Hana [0810]:_ is bell villa good

 _You [0811]:_ Where is it?

 _Hana [0811]:_ ill pick u up! send me ur add

* * *

Hana is in high spirits today. She's got her hair in two long braids, and a striped jumpsuit on. Sora, on the other hand, is the perfect display of nonchalance; her fingers laced with Hana's, and a cup of coffee in her other hand.

Hana grins. "Yuuka- _chan_ , I heard the waffles here are really good!"

"I look forward to them," I say, smiling. "How are you-"

"Sora's tried the berry one, right?" Hana cuts in.

Sora nods. "Yes."

"Well," Hana continue prattling, the many bracelets on her wrist jingling. "I think I'll try the chocolate one, or maybe the one with vanilla ice-cream on top. What about you, Yuuka- _chan_?"

She pushes the door open, and smiles at the servers at the counter. Sora slides in after her, and I'm about to hold onto the door when someone pulls it wide open from inside. It's… Tamaki? He extends a hand to me, and I take it. Hana titters.

"Tamaki- _sama_!" Hana says. "Have you reconsidered Papa's proposition? He did assent to the use of our production crew for the ball after all."

Tamaki holds my hand up for a light kiss, and then whirls to face Hana. "Of course, Hana- _hime_! I would be so honoured. You did a wonderful job for the ball, too!"

Sora is quietly standing beside them, though her hands never let go of Hana's. Or rather, Hana never quite lets go of Sora's hand. Hana's smile is wide, strained, but she seems a little more relaxed with Tamaki's gibbering praises. They walk over to a booth furthest from the door.

"Yuu- _chan_!" Hani greets, bouncing into view. "You made it!"

"I did," I say, glancing behind him, "so did Mori- _senpai_ and Aki-"

"Aki?" Hani echoes.

I shake my head, mustering a smile. "Kyoya- _san_."

Kyoya dips into a bow. "Yuuka- _hime_."

"I didn't know that Hana- _chan_ called all of you over," I say.

Kyoya shakes his head, but eyes me with an indescribable look. "Tamaki and I will be heading out in a moment. He wanted to check in with Hana- _hime_."

"Tamaki worries about her, doesn't he?" Hani says, tugging on Mori's arm.

Mori grunts. It's a little strange to be seeing them outside of their school uniforms, to be honest. Hani has on a giant mustard hoodie and distressed jeans – there's even a bunny embroidered on his front; Kyoya has a plain dress shirt and dark jeans, which honestly, doesn't deviate too much from the school uniform; Mori's in a plain tank and ankle pants. It's one thing to know that he does all that martial arts, it's another to see, quite visibly, the product of his training –

 _What am I thinking? God, stop, stop, stop._

I look over at where Tamaki has settled. He looks serious, and Hana's back is facing me.

"But you look super cute today, Yuu- _chan!_ " Hani squeals. "I've never seen you outside of the uniform!"

I smile. "You look cute as ever too, Hani- _senpai_."

"Doesn't the bunny? Just like Usa- _chan_!"

"Yes, it's adorable," I say.

We stand in silence for a moment, Hani racking his brain for a suitable conversation topic. Kyoya's pulled his phone up, searching for something. He excuses himself, and walks over to join Tamaki and Hana in their conversation. Another moment passes, and then Tamaki and Kyoya are out of the booth, making their way to us.

"Enjoy your day, my lady," Tamaki says, bowing. Kyoya, behind him, does so too.

I nod. "Have a good day, Tamaki- _san_ , Kyoya- _san_."

Hani latches onto my wrist and all but drags me to the booth. Hana's grinning into Sora's hair, and they're squished so close together in their seats. I swallow, feeling the first tingles of something like envy creep up my chest. I slide into the booth opposite them, picking up the menu instead. Hani immediately launches into soliloquy about the differences between cakes and waffles and pancakes. It's easy to see how quickly Hana begins to enjoy herself, angling her body towards us and even making eye contact with Mori. Her grin is wider, and the look Sora sends her – impossibly fond, impossibly soft.

 _I wonder what sort of look is on my face right now._

When our orders come in, the discussion turns into something more mundane. Mori's having a kendo tournament soon, would we all be going to support him? What about Hani's next foray into mixed martial arts? Maybe Hana should pick up boxing too, would that be too strange? Did you have any plans for the next break?

I sit them out, methodically slicing through my waffles. It's got a good crust, and just enough fluffiness. Before I know it, we're all done, and wandering the streets with reckless joy. The sun casts speckled spots against my arms, upon Sora's dress and the hat that Hana's trying on right now. She banters cheerfully, innocuously with the store owner, earning her a round of chuckles and a promise for a discount.

She takes the wide-brimmed straw hat, and playfully adds a pair of heart-shaped sunglasses onto Sora's face. The ruffles of her romper flare prettily in the breeze, and as she pats it down I notice that her nails are all painted with sparkles. The beaded bracelet hanging loosely off her wrist matches the straps of her sandals. Hana looks at me and flashes a victory sign. Her youthful attention is drawn away when Hani puts on a cowboy hat and asks for her opinion.

I scratch at the collar of my blouse, suddenly too starched and even. Even the fit of my denim skirt stays staunchly in place, shaped firm and resolute.

 _I wonder what sort of look is on my face right now._

Mori hangs back, walking in step with me. He doesn't strike up a conversation; neither do I.

* * *

 _Akito stays with me for my fifth injection of the week. I'm used to the pain, honestly, but the nurses always give me that caramel sweet when they think I'm scared. Well, what they don't know won't hurt them. I scribble a picture of a cat mauling a carrot in Akito's notebook. He leans over and looks._

" _What's that?" Akito says._

 _I grin. "A cat and a carrot!"_

" _Cats don't eat carrot," Akito deadpans._

 _I shrug. "Well, this one does! Have you ever seen a cat, Akito-nii-chan?"_

 _Akito nods._

" _A real one?"_

 _He pauses, and then shakes his head. And then, the new nurse – Masumi – walks in with the syringes and all that sharp stuff. She smiles kindly at the both of us, though I think that's directed more to me than Akito. For some reason, people are all afraid of him. I peek up at his blank, seemingly-emotionless face; I get why. Akito never really shows how he feels, but it's so easy to see, once you know how to look. The signs are all there._

 _Akito meets my gaze evenly, and raises a brow, as if to ask what I'm thinking. I shake my head and grin. Masumi begins preparing my shot._

" _You can always hold onto his hand if you feel the pain, alright?" Masumi says._

 _Akito doesn't look very fond of the idea. But he holds out his hand, and so I take it. It's only then that Akito flinches. I'm about to ask why, but then Masumi's talking to me again, so I wrench my face into the best resemblance of a particularly sad kitten._

" _On three, okay? Alright, one, two…" the shot comes, and it's the same pinprick on my arm. "There you go!"_

" _Thank you, Masumi-nee-chan!" I say._

 _She pats my head and brings out the caramel sweet. When she's gone, I pull my hand from Akito's. He indiscreetly wipes it with a handkerchief. I suppose my hand gets clammy too easily, huh. Well, it's not my fault I'm always cold._

" _You'd do anything for that sweet, huh," Akito says._

" _You don't like sweets?"_

 _Akito shrugs. "Never cared for it."_

" _Or you never had it?" I press._

" _Well," Akito begins to say, "sweets have no nutritional value at all. There's nothing to be gained from consuming sugar."_

 _I frown. "But they make you happy."_

 _He scoffs. I fling the plastic wrapper at him. It falls pathetically midway and onto my bed. Akito picks it up and throws it into the dustbin by my bed._

" _A lot of other things can make you happy," he says. "All the while being beneficial in other ways."_

" _But you're not looking for the most beneficial thing, are you? We're just evaluating things based on themselves."_

" _Why wouldn't you view things in relation to other things? It's more efficient that way," Akito says._

 _I huff. "You're introducing new conditions this late into the argument."_

 _Akito rolls his eyes. "You're such a child."_

" _A jibe is not a rebuttal!"_

 _He nods. "Right. But you haven't addressed the argument – why shouldn't I view things in relation to other things?"_

" _Because that's not fair to the sweets!" I exclaim. "They didn't choose to be this certain way, and you're being mean to them because of it."_

" _So if they chose to be a certain way, after consulting all the other foods in the world, I can compare them?"_

 _I frown. "But some things will come before others…"_

" _That's not the point," Akito sighs. "The point is, I only have a stomach this big, and thus I am limited to a certain amount of food I can eat. Given that, why wouldn't I choose the things that are most beneficial to me?"_

" _A sweet isn't much food," I say. "It's a snack."_

" _You don't need snacks," Akito says._

 _Something in his voice makes me think I should shut up. But it's making me angry, why does he think he can belittle a sweet like this? It's really good, and it's a change from all the porridge I have to eat every day!_

" _Then how do I benefit you?" I challenge._

* * *

"Yuu- _chan_ , we're here," Hani says, gently rocking my shoulder.

I sit up groggily, neck aching. The limousine's paused right outside my apartment. I rub at my cheeks, trying to get some feeling back into them. To my right, Mori has a hand on my shoulder, steadying me.

"Thank you," I say, but it comes out hoarser than I'd expected. "For sending me home."

My head's too heavy. It might be time for another set of painkillers. I get out of the limo, bid my goodbyes, and slowly walk up the stairs to the foyer. My phone immediately begins vibrating.

 _Hani [20:32]:_ Rest well, Yuu- _chan_!

 _Hani [20:32]:_ We had a lot of fun today! (((o(*°▽°*)o)))

 _You [20:34]:_ Thank you, too, Hani- _senpai_.

The glare of my phone screen is too much to handle. I jab at my floor's button in the lift, and miss.

* * *

I get through school, reeling. The waves of nausea have gotten worse since the morning. Perhaps the painkillers were losing effect. I brace myself against the desk, pen shaking so hard I can't jot anything down. But I don't want to cause a scene, and I _did_ promise Umehito that I would visit his club today. Gritting my teeth, I hunker down till the very last period.

"You're not going to the Host Club?" Hana asks.

I shake my head, and regret the motion immediately. "No, I have other things to attend to today."

"Oh," Hana says. "Alright then, see you!"

 _I wonder what sort of look is-_

Before I can finish the thought, I'm rushing to the nearest restroom. Retching, I hold myself over the sink. There's nothing – I hadn't felt good enough to eat. It's terrible. My eyes hurt, but not enough to tear up, and there's just this slowly building tension between them. Head. Nose. Ears. Ringing.

Even my hands are cold and clammy again. They always are. I shove them under the tap and wash them vigorously. It's so cold. I resist a shiver. I will make it to Umehito's. I will make it there. Inhaling sharply, I briskly walk out, keeping my back straight and chin down. I've gotten through worse. This much is nothing.

Every click of the heels is a concentrated effort. I keep to the walls, fingers grazing the sides just in case. There's the deer. A… right, then. I turn right, and find myself on route. It isn't until I'm on my way past the fourth music room that I hear a rather loud, grating commotion from the third. That's the Host Club.

On reflex, I push the doors open, swallowing harshly as bright lights hit me. My vision blurs again, turns a solid static black. I clutch onto the door frame, waiting it out. When it comes to, there's a young lady with blonde hair and a pink bow. She's staring at me in absolute, frenzied delight.

"And you're the sickly princess main character! You've got the fairest skin of them all, like a real princess, and you're always weak and sickly and a burden to everyone around them!" she announces.

 _I – what?_ My grip tightens on the door. Everything is spinning.

"Even though you've got everyone fawning over you, and taking care of you, alas! Your illness is a terrible, terminal one, and your prince will dedicate his life to serving you. But because you don't want to be such a burden on him, you'll choose to commit suicide-"

"SHUT UP!"

It's hard to breathe, but the satisfaction of seeing her taken aback is quite, honestly, satisfying. Behind her, Hani's eyes widen.

"Yuu- _chan_ ," Hani says, "y-you're bleeding."

"Your nose," Haruhi adds, reaching out.

I hold a hand up to my nose, and pull it away. It's a long sticky strand of maroon. Mori's there to steady me. He picks me up too easily, and brings me behind a curtain. There are shrill squeals from out where the Host Club is. I sigh, feeling incredibly stupid – I've just created fuel for that girl's disgusting fantasies.

There's a white piano there, as well as a couch. Mori places me down on the couch.

"Head down," he says. "Don't let it clot."

"I know," I say, and obey.

His palm rests on my forehead. "You're burning up."

"I know."

Mori doesn't say anything, reaching over me to fetch a box of tissues. I grab a handful and wipe away at the blood around my fingers.

"I promised Umehito- _san_ I'd see his club," I say, and then laugh hollowly. "I guess he'd be happy to see all this blood."

Just then, Haruhi parts the curtain and enters. There's a pack of something in his hands.

"Nakahara- _senpai_ ," Haruhi says, "Place this over your nose. It should close up the blood vessels."

"Thank you, Fujioka- _kun_ ," I say, receiving the icepack. "I'm sorry for raising my voice out there."

He shakes his head. "Just Haruhi is fine. It's alright, we should have stopped her earlier, but she said that she was Kyoya- _senpai_ 's fiancé, and I don't think any of us got over the shock."

"A fiancé," I echo.

Haruhi shrugs. "I suppose so."

The curtain parts again, and one of the twins pokes his head in. "Haruhi, help! That girl's a maniac!"

He sighs, and follows the twin out. I keep the icepack on my nose.

"You've been sick since Saturday," Mori says.

I agree. "I have. I took painkillers, though. It worked out fine."

The nosebleed stops after another minute. I swing my legs off the couch.

"I'm fine now," I say, not meeting Mori's eyes. "I'm going over to the second music room."

Mori frowns, and offers a hand. I don't take it, pressing my palms against the fabric of my skirt instead. After the icepack, my hand's even colder and damper. The fiancé's on a rampage, flitting around a whiteboard. Mori and I make it out just fine.

Umehito receives us, in his signature cloak. "Y-Y-Y-Yuuka- _san_! A-and Morinozuka- _san_ … You made it!"

"I did," I say.

He cackles, but tones it down before appearing too sinister – already I can feel Mori's disapproval. "Please, join us."

* * *

Perhaps it was Mori's stoic presence, or perhaps Umehito was more perceptive than I gave him credit for. But our tour of the Black Magic Club ended as quickly as it started. Umehito presses his hands together, unintentionally squishing Beelzenef in the face. He begins to hem and haw, flushing harder.

"W-would you like to come for another session?" Umehito asks.

There's a girl in pigtails behind him, as well as bald man. They vanish from view as soon as our eyes meet. I had the sneaking suspicion that they were trailing after us the entire tour. I smile at Umehito; while the Black Magic Club was not exactly my cup of tea, I wasn't really opposed to it.

"Sure, when's that?"

"Ah, um," Umehito says.

The girl in pigtails appears beside Umehito. "Our master Nekozawa- _sama_ would like to ask for your phone number!"

The bald man reconvenes beside her and nods severely. Umehito hunches into his cloak.

"Yes… as fellow… patrons…" he begins to whittle out an excuse.

I tug out my phone, and ask for his. "I've sent a message to you, you should have my number now."

"Thank you!" Umehito cries, and hastily squirms. "Well, with that, I'll see you – around."

I turn around, where Mori is just stonily staring at our exchange. The door to the second music room slams shut. His gaze doesn't waver. Eventually I let up, smoothing out the creases on my skirt. He doesn't look angry, just… disappointed. In whom? I swallow, unsure if I can bear the burden of that answer.

"Sorry for holding you up, Mori- _senpai_ ," I say. "You should go back to your club."

He shakes his head. "Mitsukuni is handling fine."

"I can get home fine," I say.

Mori isn't happy with that. "Let me take you to the hospital."

I frown. Part of me knows that that's the right thing to do, but the other part, fuelled by pride and indignation – _'you're always weak and sickly and a burden to everyone around them!'_ – tells me to square up. To prove that I'm not weak, or a burden. I've been looking after myself just fine.

"Fine," I say.

Mori holds out a hand. I ignore it, wringing my clammy hands – just how do they sweat so much? – together in front of my skirt. His hand falls, and I can't help but feel so- _compromised._ I'm being so much like a child. Too much like a child.

"I'm sorry for throwing a tantrum, Mori- _senpai_ ," I say, staring at the bridge of his nose. It's a good way to imitate eye contact. "Thank you for all you've done for me."

He doesn't respond at first, the crease between his browns deepening. And then, "Let's go."

* * *

 _It's been at least a week since Akito last came. I can tell that he's angry now. Well, so am I! Whatever. It's not as though it really matters. I've always known that Akito would leave one day for school. Or that he'd be able to fly overseas and go on holidays. Maybe even Karuizawa. Mom promised that we'd go there when she's free, maybe in the spring. I've looked up all the good food places and even the accommodation – I know she's bad at details when she gets busy._

" _Yuuka-chan!" Masumi calls. She's a really good sport about the whole Akito thing. We're going to throw darts at his face tomorrow when she gets the time to print it out. "Lights out in five, alright?"_

" _Yes, Masumi-nee-chan!" I say._

 _She winks, and moves on to check on the other room. There's a bunch of children in the other room, like Hiromi and Ami. They're the nicer ones of the batch. The others are too young. I don't mind being in this one by myself; it's good to have some space at times, and I've even managed to get a bookshelf installed in that corner._

 _Ami's getting discharged next week – her surgery's already done, and they're just keeping her here for a little more tests. I remember seeing the scar across her torso – it's really long! I wonder if I'll have to get a surgery too. I hope not. A cut like that is going to be really hard to cover up, especially when I go back to school and we have physical education classes! Well, in any case, she's really brave._

 _Hiromi had gasped too, but Hiromi's already undergone quite a number of surgeries on her chest. She said that there's a hole in her heart. I know it's a medical condition, but it doesn't stop me from telling her that she has a really big heart anyway. I think she liked that. The doctors are prescribing her with medication instead, and we all agreed that another surgery would be too much._

 _I close my book shut – it's a guilty pleasure, really, but Akito isn't here to tell me off about it. It's about princesses and princes, and get this, there's a twist because the prince is actually a pauper! I don't think I could ever believe the idea of people who look so similar but aren't related. Twins are a thing, I know, but having a pauper look too much like a prince is stretching it a bit far. In fact, I can't imagine looking at someone and seeing the exact same face staring back!_

 _It must be so tiring, to notice that everything is replicated on another living being. With your face! I shudder, and place the book by my bedside. Reaching up, I turn the reading lamp on, and settle back into bed. And… count. One, two, three, four…_

" _CODE PINK!" Masumi is screaming. "Help- oh my god, help-"_

 _I sit back up. It's – Masumi's so – I push the covers off my feet and walk over. Masumi's rushing out of the other room, and she's joined by a couple of other nurses. I notice someone – I can't quite read her nametag – rush out to the lifts._

" _It's – oh my god, I thought she was getting better," Masumi sobs. "I- Hiromi-chan's so young-"_

 _Hiromi? What happened?_

" _Masumi, calm down," the other nurse says, staying behind and wrapping her arms around Masumi's shoulders._

 _Masumi is at least three heads taller than me. But right now she looks so small. I twist my hands together. It feels wrong to step out and ask. The nurse who had rushed off comes back with a doctor in tow. It's Doctor Kang. He's not one of my favourites, but he listens to me ramble sometimes. Doctor Kang looks positively grim, but determined._

 _I push my door wider. There's a series of thuddings, and Doctor Kang is jabbering a list of things like a machine gun. I can't hear much else past Masumi's sobs. This is really bad._

 _And then they're wheeling someone out. Hiromi's got an oxygen mask over her face. She looks like she's asleep, but she's way too pale. The knitted beanie that she wears over her head slips off, exposing an equally pale expanse of skin. She's bald. It makes her look like –_

 _like she's –_

" _Yuuka-chan," Masumi gasps. "Yuuka-chan, you can't be out here."_

 _I walk over to them and pick up Hiromi's beanie. "Masumi-nee-chan, what happened to Hiromi?"_

" _Oh, Yuuka," Masumi says, falling to her knees and holding me tightly. "Yuuka, Hiromi will be alright. It's just –"_

 _The other nurse kneels down and smiles. "It's just a small- uh, incident. But Doctor Kang's here to make sure nothing happens."_

" _I heard code pink," I say, feeling the ribs in between each knit. "What does that mean?"_

 _Masumi exchanges looks with the other nurse, her eyes red and teary. "It's, well, it's just an accident."_

 _They're lying. I know they're lying. But Masumi looks like she's about to faint anytime. So I nod, and smile weakly, Hiromi's beanie crinkling in my hands. I go back to my room, and listen at the door. Masumi collapses into even more tears, muffling her cries with a desperate strain._

 _That's the last time I see Masumi. Or Hiromi._

* * *

Mori helps me out of his family car. I keep my hands to myself, and thank the chauffer for his work. The chauffer is silent, but nods in acknowledgment. The hospital is under Ootori Holdings, and it's a place I'm too used to. We weave through the crowds easily, and make our way to the counter.

There's a doctor waiting, and even though he's standing perfectly still with a straight posture and distributing his weight evenly across both feet, I can tell he's annoyed. Impatient. The receptionist, frazzled under his attention, types quickly into her computer.

"I'm afraid, Ootori- _sensei_ ," the receptionist chokes when she looks up. "I'm not sure where-"

He shakes his head. "That's quite alright. Thank you."

He turns, nearly knocking into Mori.

"Akito- _san_ ," I say, eyes wide.

* * *

 **AN:** Please do review if you enjoyed it! I live on attention ;u;


	7. she knows what i think about

**AN:** I had to lie down for a few hours because of school, and it's not even Friday. Well! Anyhow, here's another chapter! I'm thinking of doing a bit more for Aoi and the Hitachiin twins in the next chapter, sooooooooooooooooooooooo let's see how that goes!

 _DominoDuh:_ Thank you so much haha! And yes, I definitely have something juicy in store for Akito - discounting the uh possibly dubious age gap problems, Akito is going to have a big role to play here soon ~

 _cercee:_ Thank you so much! I'm not much of a suspense writer, but I guess the previous chapter did work out in presenting some tension of sorts haha. The fact that you called her Yuu and not Yuuka made my heart beat a little faster :') I'm glad you enjoy her character - she's too precious to me at this point.

 _TheVulcanNara:_ oh my gosh, I don't know what to say! Thank you so much, for complimenting my writing _and_ talking about Yuuka - I'm so appreciative of all reviewers and you guys taking the time to tell me about what you think. Rest assured that there _are_ certain um plot elements that will be fleshed out in greater detail soon~

 _MAD96:_ Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed what you've read :D

* * *

 _she knows what i think about_

* * *

"Akito-san."

Akito recoils, like he's been burned. And then, quick as light, the shock filters out into something different. The smile – that I've pinned down as mercilessly Kyoya's – brands itself on his face instead.

Yuuka-kun," he says, and every part of me wants to flinch so badly. Akito zeroes in on my face, as well as my hand on Mori's arm. "You don't look so well."

"I have a fever," I say. "I've had it since Saturday."

"I see," he says, disgruntled. "This way, if you will."

"I'm supposed to make an appointment with Yuuichi-sensei."

"Nii- Yuuichi-sensei isn't free," he says, walking ahead anyway. "If it's just a fever, I'm sure you're in capable hands with me."

"I should hope so," I say, a little too snarky. "You're a doctor now, aren't you?"

Akito swivels back, a smirk on his face, but collects himself once more. For the first time, he seems to notice Mori dutifully following us. The smile is back again. I turn my head and look out the tinted windows. A yellow car zooms by.

"You must be Morinozuka Takashi," Akito says, and I marvel at how similar his candence and intonation is to Kyoya's now. "I'm Ootori Akito, I believe my younger brother is in your club."

Mori nods.

"I hope he hasn't been troubling you too much. He has always been quite a wildcard," Akito notes blandly.

"He hasn't," Mori says.

"He recently contracted me to help him plan the sakura-viewing ball," I add. "And he's been staying at the top of the class rankings."

"That's to be expected." Akito pauses, scanning his ID card. "Well, I suppose he's proven himself to have quite a unique taste in people. First Suoh- _kun_ , and now you."

I roll my eyes, before joining Akito in his room. "It runs in the family, I see."

Akito holds the door open for me, and to Mori, says, "It'll be better if you waited outside, Morinozuka- _kun_."

Mori looks at me. I nod. Mori steps back, and Akito shuts the door on him. In a professional, detached manner, Akito picks up his stethoscope and motions for me to scoot over. It's strange, to be examined by Akito now. The chill of the metal rim doesn't help either.

"Exhale slowly," he says.

I do so. His hands guide my shoulders, turning me around. Something about this is strange, almost – _intimate_. While he's dutifully clinical in his assessment, some part of me knows that the warmth of his palm is human, and that when we were children, there was always something barring us from crossing an invisible line. Was it our naivety? Or was it because my vulnerability was never a topic for discussion between us?

I remember him, steadfast and irate, determined not to bring up the fact that I was the one bedridden, and that he was free to leave as it were. That he was squandering the very freedom I had yearned for so badly.

"Again, exhale slowly."

I try to calm my heart. The chill is removed, and he retreats back to pick at a thermometer. All the while, I'm silent, even as he swipes the plastic across my forehead. _How did we get so minimal_?

"What are your symptoms?" he says, checking the thermometer after it beeps. "38.7 degrees Celsius; definitely a fever."

I shrug. "Headaches, nausea, back aches, the usual."

"Sounds like all the signs of a normal fever," he says. "Congratulations. Have you been keeping up with your iron supplements?"

"I thought the sanguine man is quick to heat," I deadpan.

Akito raises a brow, but remains faithful to his scribbling on a card. "I'll humour you this one time."

I laugh, caught off guard. The sound of it must also have taken him aback, because Akito actually glances up, distracted. He spares me a rueful smile. And I realise how much we've grown. How far we've grown apart. Akito shakes his head, bites the smile down. I reach up, adjusting my collar. It's sticky with sweat.

"So, Morinozuka," he says suddenly. "I had no idea you were close."

I frown. "Mori- _senpai_ 's part of the Host Club that your brother's in."

"Your prescription. Make sure to finish the antibiotics. I've also prescribed medication for nausea. It should get rid of your headache as well," Akito hands me the prescription card with a practiced hand. "Yes, I supposed as much. He _does_ make strange company."

I huff, amused. "That's a roundabout way of trying to find out what your brother's up to, Ootori."

Akito narrows his eyes, and hands me a bottle of water. "Lips cracking, Nakahara."

"Though," I muse, "I never knew you had a brother. Let alone the fact that you were an Ootori."

"Are we digging up past scores?" Akito says dully, and I drink up. "You knew me as 'Akito', and that was enough for the both of us."

"I knew you as 'Akito- _nii-chan_ '," I say.

Akito swallows. "You did."

We sit in silence. I take another sip. And then Akito rises to his feet.

"Let's go get your medication," he says. "We'd hate for you to get worse."

I bite back a retort as he slides the door open. Mori rises from his seat, gazing evenly at us. I smile, tight-lipped. As I exit the room, Mori holds his arm out. I hold onto his elbow. The movement does not escape Akito's hawkish look. He doesn't comment.

The pharmacist expedites my order when they see Akito looming over me, and Mori looming even more ominously over us. We must look quite like a sight, a strange trio of varying heights and threat-levels. With my prescription in hand, Akito escorts us out the front gate.

"You look terrible," Akito says, just as Mori finishes calling his chauffer.

"Is that a professional observation, doctor?" I tease.

Akito smirks. "No. It's so bad that even the everyday man could tell."

"And there's the distinction between a gentleman and an everyday man," I say. "Could _or_ should."

He shrugs. "It's been a while, Yuuka- _san_."

Akito isn't looking at me when he says it. He's glancing out into the distance, hands securely placed behind his back, as though some worried that he'd forget his post here at the hospital. I cough lightly.

"I'd hoped it would stay that way," I say. "Goodbye, Akito- _san_."

The car comes round the bend. Mori opens the door, and I climb in. Akito bows. The car speeds away, leaving him a small, singular figure, almost camouflaging with the rest of the building – white coats, the both of them. The only thing that cuts him out sharply is the incredibly dark shade of his black hair. I blink, looking away from the rearview mirror, as Mori hands me a bun.

"Where'd you get this?" I say.

"Ebihara looked for something small," Mori says. "Eat so you can take your medication."

"Thank you, Ebihara- _san_ ," I say.

The chauffer nods, and returns to his stoic task. I take a bite into the bun, and the sweet apple syrup gushes out.

"You're close to him," Mori notes.

I pause, unsure. "He was there for me until he wasn't."

"How are you feeling?"

I blink, confused. "All things considered, I think my fever might be dying down."

Mori shakes his head, and places a hand over his heart. My mind is quick to make connections between the gesture and the earlier examination. Ignoring the rabbiting of my pulse, I shrug.

"It's- well, it's complicated," I offer.

"Why?" Mori levels a patient gaze on me.

It's a good question. I think it over. "We met when we were children. I don't think we really understood that what our childhoods were – they weren't normal, per se. And while I would like to have pretended that I wasn't ignorant to the point of being blissful, I was naïve.

"And he was," I'm trying to think of the word. "Aware? Calculated? I'm sorry, I don't think I make a lot of sense now."

Mori smiles, reassuring.

"What do you think of him, Mori- _senpai_?" I ask. "He's a lot like Kyoya- _san_."

Mori lifts his head, eyes trained elsewhere. "Yes, but he is rough around the edges."

I tilt my head, taking another bite. "What do you mean?"

"They care for the people they trust," he says, "but Kyoya smiles more."

I laugh. "Yes, Kyoya- _san_ does. I would have thought you meant that Kyoya- _san_ was more ambitious than Akito- _san_."

"He is," Mori agrees.

I nod, taking a bite of the bun. "You're saying that not because Kyoya- _san_ 's a host, but because the Host Club makes him happier?"

Mori nods.

"Are _you_ happier?" I ask.

Mori looks surprised, if the brief widening of his eyes is anything to go by. "Yes."

I grin. "You don't sound certain."

"Ah." Mori clears his throat, glancing away.

I finish my bun, and proceed to reading the prescription on the medication. It's nothing new to me, but given the way Mori's been caught by surprise or shock, I figured I'd let him recover. I take the pills, sulking at the bitter aftertaste. I've never quite got the hang of pills, but as I grew older, Juri started bringing me them.

Ebihara pulls up to the front of my apartment. I thank them and walk back up.

* * *

 _Toru [20:22]:_ Ootori Akito? As in, Ootori Kyoya's brother?

 _You [20:24]:_ I knew him before I knew Kyoya- _san_ , actually.

 _Toru [20:25]:_ And then?

 _You [20:27]:_ And then Mori- _senpai_ sent me home.

 _Toru [20:28]:_ You sound engaged.

 _Toru [20:29]:_ What I mean is, first Nekozawa Umehito, then Mori- _senpai_ , and now Ootori Kyoya's brother?

 _Toru [20:29]:_ You might as well start your own Host Club!

 _You [20:32]:_ Very funny.

 _Toru [20:32]:_ Jokes aside, are you feeling better?

 _You [20:34]:_ I think so.

 _You [20:38]:_ You know, Toru- _kun_ , how did you know that Kasugazaki- _san_ was the one?

 _Toru [20:38]:_ And this is in isolation with the three men I've mentioned previously?

 _You [20:40]:_ Absolutely ;)

 _Toru [20:40]:_ ;)

* * *

Hana is evasive again the next day. We spend more time talking about the latest developments with Kyoya's fiancé instead. The conversation is peppered with glances towards Tamaki's slowly decaying aura. He's been leaning fancifully against windows and curtains, hands brushing his wet hair out of his face every so often.

"And so, Renge- _san_ wanted them to change up their entire persona," Hana concludes. "I can't say it's a bad development, actually… since Kyoya- _san_ did give us the opportunity to film it, and Tamaki- _san_ 's more aware of his angles now…"

At that, Tamaki produces a rose and begins bitterly philosophizing about the meaning of love and life. Hana cringes, and hides her giggles behind Sora's shoulder. Sora sighs in exasperation, giving me a look.

"What persona did she assign Mori- _senpai_?" I ask. "Or the other hosts, actually. Even Kyoya- _san_ too?"

"She said Kyoya- _san_ was perfect," Hana says, miming Renge's lovesick expression. "She wanted Mori- _senpai_ to be Hani- _senpai_ 's lackey, and Hani- _senpai_ to be a baby-faced thug! Can you imagine?"

"The answer is no," Sora deadpans. Hana nudges her in the ribs.

"That's not exactly very imaginative," I say.

Hana raises a brow. "What, Hani- _senpai_ being a baby-faced thug?"

I shake my head. "No, I meant Mori- _senpai_ being a lackey. Isn't that a common misconception?"

"Weeeeeell," Hana says. "I suppose Mori- _senpai_ prefers it, being out of the spotlight."

"She didn't ask for anyone's input, huh," I say.

"Nope," Hana says. "Though, I'm not surprised. After all, the Hosts are a caricature of themselves already. It's time for a rebranding."

Sora combs through Hana's hair. "You're just excited to get to watch Tamaki- _san_ act."

Hana grins. "Guilty. Hey, Yuuka- _chan_ , you should come along too! It'll be fun!"

I nod, amazed and also amused. Strange how Mori never mentioned it yesterday.

* * *

Filming is altogether, not a very glamorous sport. I say this from my rather privileged spot at the side, a beach umbrella opened over my head. Hana's jabbering into a walkie-talkie, all the while babysitting Renge's explosive ideas. I sip on the tea Kyoya had provided earlier, and watch as Tamaki begins a visceral monologue about his status as the academy's idol.

"An idol, huh," he says, pushing his fringe out of the way. "If people are going to celebrate me over a superficial title like that, then I'm sure I'd be better off alone."

It's quite a powerful performance, albeit a little cheesy. Even then, I can tell why Hana's so insistent on having him for a production. Tamaki has a strange sort of charisma that bends every single line to the point of resembling the truth. I look on over the rim of my cup, considering.

"One injured heart intersects with another," Renge reads passionately, her script crumpling in her fists. "They pass each other, and wound each other. What are the hearts of these young men made of?"

Hana gives her an impressed look, and grins. I suppose there's something to be said for Renge's wild imagination and commitment. It's no small-scale production. The camera crew swivel around to another part of the artificially constructed forest, where Haruhi is desperately running for his life.

"You can't run away anymore," Hani says sternly. "You're going to learn what happens when you cross me."

"Don't, Mitsukuni," Mori says. "Every time you hurt others, you're the one who ends up being hurt."

I blink, setting my cup back on its saucer. There's a negligible chime as I do so, but Mori winds up glancing at me momentarily, before schooling his features into inscrutable nonchalance.

"Don't give me advice, Takashi," Hani says. "Do you want to suffer my wrath again?"

Renge inhales sharply. "Will it be the light of salvation that awaits them… or something else?"

A live orchestra emphasises her point, violins drawn out to a breaking point of despair. Hani raises his head, grinning cruelly. Hana muffles a gasp, eyes wide.

"I hate it when people try to rise above their station in life," Hani says, wry and –

He breaks character almost immediately, diving into Haruhi's lap. Hana sighs, checking her clipboard and crossing out something else. Renge rounds up on Hani, chiding him for breaking character yet again. I rise, handing a towel to Hana and then Mori.

"How's the work going, producer?" I ask.

Hana shrugs. "Well, I'm sure we could do post-production magic, but we need at least one shot for the very last scene in order to stitch it all up. Renge- _san_ said there would be a special appearance, but I have no idea what's it about."

Renge, seething, marches over towards us, and then, at the sight of me, cheers up again. "Hana- _chan_! You brought the princess here!"

"Princess?" Hana echoes uncertainly. "Anyway, regarding the last scene-"

Renge waves her away and tugs on my arm. "I'll be borrowing her! The last scene is bound to be good – hey, camera crew! Haruhi- _chan_!"

For a girl just barely taller than me, she's surprisingly strong. Haruhi ambles over, looking equally puzzled.

"Nakahara- _senpai_ -" Haruhi begins to say, but Renge cuts her off.

"For our last scene, I figured we'd have some special appearances!" Renge says, introducing two burly-looking students.

"Appearances?" the students echo. "Wait, we didn't agree to this!"

"There's a misunderstanding, Renge- _san_ ," I say.

She forges on. "Well, it's always essential to the plot to have some conflict for a build-up towards the resolution! In Uki Doki Memorial, too, the heroes had to band together to fight villains-"

"Villains?" one of them cries.

"We're not villains!"

Renge ignores them. "As sons of Yakuza-"

 _Dammit._ I'm tugging Renge back. "Renge- _san_ -"

The students roar at that, rolling up their sleeves. "What our parents do don't represent us!"

Angered, they lunge at us. Renge trips in her haste to get away, and stumbles into me. She falls towards a bunch of equipment against the wall, and I – the ground. Gravel gashes rough against my palms.

Haruhi must have leapt in between them, blocking Renge from the impact just in time. He falls to the ground, groaning. Hana and Tamaki come rushing over. Tamaki immediately steps in front of Hana, dragging the nearest student by the collar.

"Who did this to Haruhi?" he shouts. "Which one of you?"

"Tamaki- _san_ ," I say, getting up.

And am immediately tackled by Hana. The momentum pushes us over. There's a loud crash, and I turn to see a ladder fall upon where I had previously been standing. Hana gets up, alert and worried. She's shaking.

"Is there a third one?" Tamaki says, forcing his voice down. "Who pushed that ladder?"

"It-it-it's not us!" the student in his grasp exclaims fearfully.

"Tamaki- _senpai_ , Renge- _san_ provoked them first," Haruhi clarifies, getting up. "Nakahara- _senpai_ , are you alright?"

I nod. "Tamaki- _san_ , Haruhi- _kun_ 's right."

Tamaki loosens his grip. "Good. Then get out of my sight."

The students scramble off. Renge, shocked, turns excited. "Oh! That was excellent! Camera crew, did you get all of-"

 _CRASH_!

Kyoya's crashed a stone into the lens of the camera. Hana winces, gripping onto my shoulder. As Kyoya begins stonily explaining that no Host can be seen being violent, I pull Hana behind me back to the main set. Mori walks over from where he was, with the twins.

"What happened, Yuu- _chan_?" Hani says, eyes flitting to Hana.

I exchange a look with Hana. She's still shaking.

"You're bruised, Nakahara- _senpai_ ," one of the twins says, getting up from his seat.

"Renge- _san_ decided to call in some students whose families had Yakuza background," I explain. "They got into trouble, but I think Kyoya- _san_ has it under control."

"Yakuza?" the other twin, still in his seat and playing a mobile game, echoes. He rises and runs around the corner. "Haruhi!"

"Hikaru!" Kaoru, I suppose, calls, and runs after him.

Hani reaches out and takes my arm. "They didn't hurt you, did they?"

"No," I say. "It was-"

"Someone else," Hana cuts in. "The ladder – it was leaning against a headlight we had – someone else must have pushed it."

"Hana-"

"They were aiming for you," Hana insists, voice low and urgent. "Whoever it was- they wanted you hurt badly."

"Hana," I say, "I'm fine."

"I know," Hana says, shakily inhaling. "It's – _ugh_."

I rub circles against her palm. "Add the camera to Kyoya- _san_ 's bill?"

Hana laughs, some of the tension leaving her body. "Y-yeah."

"Takashi," Hani says, "stay here with Yuu- _chan_. Hana- _chan_ , let's tell the crew to wrap up."

Hana nods, and takes his hand. Mori carries one of the twins' foldable chairs over. I take a seat, sighing. What a day.

"I hope Hana's alright…" I say, staring out at where the other members of the crew are keeping their equipment. "Haruhi- _kun_ too – he hurt himself pretty badly when Renge- _san_ -"

He holds out his palm. I stare at it dumbly, and then up to him.

"Your hand," he says.

I place it in his. He kneels, scrutinising the jagged scar across my palm and the reddened abrasion from earlier. I squirm, suddenly uncomfortable. Nothing has quite healed, on no fault of my own natural immunity, of course.

"A smiley," he says. "I see it now."

It catches me by surprise. I snort. "Only now?"

Mori glances up, eyes softening into something fond. "Only now."

I never noticed, or perhaps I did, but never quite catalogued it – but he's got these… freckles? around his eyes. They're small and faded, speckled like half-constellations. I turn away and gaze out into the artificial greenery.

"It curves in towards you," Mori continues, tracing my latest scar with a thumb.

He's not let go of my hand yet. "And?"

"It's not just about giving them," he says. "There is generosity in receiving."

My hands, which are getting clammier by the minute. I swallow. From my periphery, I can tell he's waiting for a reaction of some kind. I awkwardly untangle my hand from his.

"You're a good palm reader, Mori- _senpai_ ," I say, and smile. "You're going to take over my job soon."

Mori inclines his head down, and then rises to his feet.

* * *

"Kyoya- _san_ sold copies of the footage anyway, huh," I say, sipping on my tea.

Hana nods wisely. "He's got to foot the bill for our crew anyhow."

"Not Renge- _san_?" I ask. "Where _is_ she?"

As I ask that, Hana sighs. The floor begins to rumble, electric sparks flying everywhere. A maniacal laughter reverberates throughout the room, startling a few of the newer guests. A girl with iron-flat hair and round-rimmed glasses flees out the front door.

"Nakahara- _senpai_!" Renge squeals, leaping off her artificial podium and gliding over to us. "Kobayashi- _senpai_! I've decided to join the Host Club as a manager!"

I blink, and Hana takes another sip of her tea meditatively. "You have?"

"Yes!" Renge coos, clasping her hands together and sighing. "Haruhi- _kun_ taught me that it's important to learn more about people, and to do that, I must first be surrounded by them! It's just like Uki Doki Memorial – my character arc is here!"

"I see," I say, "will you be joining Haruhi- _kun_ and the Hitachiin twins in their class?"

"Of course not!" Renge exclaims, scandalised at any suggestion otherwise. "It's imperative for the main character to remain where the centre of events are always happening!"

I nod, and Renge continues with her spiel.

"The Host Club is centre-stage in this anime, with its beautiful men and ladies! With all the trappings of an elegant playground, there's bound to be a monster-of-the-day-esque special event every session! And together, like the characters from Uki Doki Memorial, we'll band together to fix any problems!" Renge concludes, planting her feet on the ground and punching the air with a fist.

"I see," I say, leaning back.

Renge rushes to my side, gathering my hands in hers. "I must also thank you, Nakahara- _senpai_ , for lecturing me on the importance of focusing on what's important!"

I exchange a look with Hana. "I'm sorry?"

"That first time we met," Renge's eyes are sparkling unnaturally, "you taught me to ignore the gimmicks of a typical, oversold moe, and to instead appreciate the underdog – an old but true veteran…"

Renge prances off, arms held out like a ballerina. Hana shrugs, and places her teacup down.

"Yuuka," Hana says, leaning in. "I've been wanting to talk to you – earlier, with the ladder, do you think-?"

I shake my head. "No one wants me hurt, Hana. It's probably just an accident."

Hana frowns, hands circling my wrist. "That wasn't an accident. I know it wasn't. There's no way that ladder fell on its own."

"It must have," I say. "You're scaring yourself."

Her face sours, and so I'm quick to add, "I'll be careful, just in case."

* * *

 _Toru [20:45]:_ It's hard to explain it, actually.

 _Toru [20:45]:_ I just always knew.

 _Toru [20:45]:_ It probably helped that we were childhood friends, and that our parents had us spend all the time together :)

 _You [20:46]:_ When did you realise it though?

 _Toru [20:48]:_ It's going to sound cheesy.

 _Toru [20:48]:_ Probably when Kanako stopped speaking to me.

 _Toru [20:48]:_ I've always known that she was amazing, that she was incredibly resourceful and gorgeous. It's the kind of thing you don't _actively_ know. It just… simmers in the back.

 _Toru [20:51]:_ And when she cut me off, it made sense.

 _You [20:52]:_ What do you mean?

 _Toru [20:54]:_ We were always together, you know, even if we weren't in the same classes.

 _Toru [20:54]:_ And it felt like we were falling into routine – like we were together by force of habit. It's why I wanted to go to England.

 _Toru [20:57]:_ Can I be honest with you?

 _You [20:58]:_ Always.

 _Toru [21:01]:_ I was scared. I think I'm still scared.

 _Toru [21:02]:_ I know it doesn't make sense.

 _Toru [21:02]:_ But now I know that I want to be with her as myself.

 _Toru [21:03]:_ Sorry, I didn't mean to get all… emotional on you.

 _You [21:05]:_ I think I understand a little.

 _Toru [21:06]:_ I don't know honestly. Somewhere in between our love grew along with us.

 _Toru [21:07]:_ Does that make sense?

 _You [21:10]:_ I think so.

* * *

I scroll through our conversation again, Toru's words branding themselves in my mind. It was different, of course, and it stemmed from his insecurities and set of circumstances. I put my phone down, sighing. Immediately, there are three knocks on the door. Mom peers in cautiously, eyes tired and waning.

"Can I come in?" Mom asks.

I nod, and move over to the bed. She settles in beside me, holding her arms out for a hug. I comply, burrowing into her warmth. She sighs, fingers running through my hair. What a luxury. I don't think we've really managed to do so in the past.

"Long day?" I ask.

She hums an assent. "You can say that again."

"Did," I struggle to remember, "something happen with Mitsuha Corp?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's just the home appliances fair. It's been postponed to a slightly later date."

"I see," I say. "So what's wrong?"

"It's just," she sighs, "things not going according to plan like this, it really vexes me."

"Mm."

"But that's alright, what about you?" Mom diverts, putting on a brave face. "Did anything happen recently? Oh, with that Ootori kid?"

She wriggles her eyebrows. I laugh.

"No," I say, and then, "everything's been fine, Mom."

"Really?" she asks, stifling a yawn.

"Yes," I nod, and hesitate. "Well, I did meet Aki- Kyoya- _san_ 's brother."

"Oh!" she exclaims, sitting up a little straighter. "Meeting the family already, Yuu?"

I push her wagging finger aside. "I met him before I met Kyoya- _san_."

"Really," she says, yawning yet again. "What is he like?"

"He's," I try to find a word, but all of them disappear from my mind. "Mom, you're tired."

She grunts. I sigh, and try to pull her up. "Let's get you to bed."

"Yuuka," she says, steadying herself against me. "You should sleep soon too."

"I will."

"Or," she yawns, stumbling over her own foot. "Or you'll fall sick, you know."

"I'll go to sleep in a bit," I say, heaving her up and onto the bed.

Mom smiles, eyes shut. In a moment, she's caved under the duvet, snoring peacefully. I tread back to my own room, turning off the living room lights in the process. The entire house falls still to darkness too familiar to be of threat. But even then, I shiver. The draft must be getting in, somehow.

Sitting back at my desk, I pick up my phone and run through Toru's messages once more.

 _Toru [21:01]:_ I was scared. I think I'm still scared.

 _Toru [21:02]:_ I know it doesn't make sense.

...

 _Toru [21:06]:_ I don't know honestly. Somewhere in between our love grew along with us.

 _Toru [21:07]:_ Does that make sense?

I sigh, shutting it and slouching over my desk. The hospital is in view – one of the tallest, grandest buildings of the skyline, even at a distance. And here I am, strangely haunted by its orderly lights. Akito's childish face… he hasn't changed, not really. I wonder if I have.

I grimace, pushing myself away from the desk and resolutely marching to my bed.

* * *

 **AN:** Once again, do review and tell me what you think!


	8. what i think about

**AN:** wow, it's really been a while since I last posted. Here's a new chapter - it's not exactly what I wanted to do, but I figured I needed it here before I could move on. So!

 _Harajuku103:_ You've hit the nail on the head! Yep, Sora and Hana are in love and dating, and Akito's low-key flirting with Yuuka. There's that line of nostalgia they're crossing back and forth, but hey, what do you know :O

 _Pineapple_ Lover: HAHAHA oh my gosh, that's great :D I'm glad you're having a good time!

 _anon_ : you're the cute one, thank you so much :')

 _MissMisfitLovesOHSHC_ : wow, I'm so glad you really enjoyed this story! Thank you for taking the time to read and review - it honestly makes my day so, so much :')

* * *

 _what i think about_

* * *

The week passes without incident. To me, at least. Haruhi, however, is facing a much larger dilemma – he rests his face in his hands, sighing loudly. Our lunches are set aside on the grass, still tightly wrapped. It must be hard on him, to have his closest friends get into an argument.

I place a hand on Haruhi's shoulder. "Haruhi- _kun_ , are you alright?"

Haruhi sighs again, and looks up. "Nakahara- _senpai_ … I'm sorry, I had to get away somehow... and I thought of you."

"I'm honoured," I say. "Is it about Kaoru- _kun_ and Hikaru- _kun_?"

"You've heard, huh," Haruhi says, glancing off into the distance. "Well, it doesn't really bother me."

"And here we are," I say, gesturing to this patch of seclusion.

Haruhi smiles. "The noise was getting to me a little."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I ask.

The weather's pretty good today – you never realise how fortunate you are on a day like this, with the sky so brightly blue. The clouds, few and sparse, drift along languidly. Even the school, typically imposing with its grandeur, is quiet at this distance.

Haruhi shakes his head. "Not really. I have a question, actually."

I smile. "What is it?"

"Do you have siblings, Nakahara- _senpai_?" Haruhi says, a hand resting placidly on the grass.

"No," I say. "Do you?"

"No, it's just me and my father," Haruhi says. "You don't seem like an only child. I thought you'd have a younger brother."

"Why do you say that?"

Haruhi grins, shoulders falling. "You take care of the people around you – Kobayashi- _senpai_ , Hani- _senpai_ , and even Mori- _senpai_."

"I guess I don't like causing my mother trouble," I say, and then tease, "neither do you – you're sensitive and thoughtful."

Haruhi laughs, softly. "I don't like causing my father trouble too, I guess."

"Do you wish you had a sibling?"

Haruhi considers it for a moment, cupping his fist. "A little, yes. An older sister would be nice."

"An older sister?" I say, tilting my head.

He nods. "I think… older sisters know a lot. I wish I had one, to guide me along."

Haruhi turns away, hand stretched out. His fingers, slender and pale, begin to measure the sky, or some part of the surrounding buildings. I watch the way his hair curls, brown and silky, against the gentle breeze.

"Maybe that's why I reached out to you first, Nakahara- _senpai_ ," Haruhi confesses, doe-eyes looking at me unabashedly. "You're kind of like an older sister."

I smile. "I _am_ older than you."

He shrugs. "So is Tamaki- _senpai_. But he's…"

He trails off, lost in thought. I look down, and find Haruhi grasping at the grass. His grip loosens, and a strange succession of emotions flits across his face. Something like confusion, irritation and a mix of exasperated fondness. A little like the way Sora regards Hana, now that I think about it.

"I thought most boys prefer to have older brothers," I say. "It surprised me to hear the converse from you."

Haruhi sits up straighter, eyes widening. "Ah."

"What is it?"

"Well," Haruhi scratches the back of his head, bashful. "I'm not actually a boy, _senpai_."

I blink. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Haruhi mumbles, "I broke a vase when I first came, and to pay off my debt… they took me on as a Host."

I frown, but keep my peace. Haruhi blinks, eyes wide again.

"I thought…" she says, trailing off. "This is unexpected."

"You don't seem upset about your own predicament," I point out. "It's absurd, I'll admit, but I don't think you'd accept my help to pay your debt off."

A smile flits across her face. "Yeah. I have to be responsible for my own mistakes."

"It's not the same as an accident," I say blandly.

"No, but…" Haruhi shrugs. "Ah! It's kind of nice to get that off my chest for a little."

I chuckle. "Isn't it hard, having to pretend to be a boy and chat up young ladies all the time?"

"Nope," she shakes her head. "I'm just myself, and everyone is usually polite. Things like gender don't really matter; I think we're all just looking for people who can listen."

"Is that so," I muse. "That would really bother me, I think."

Haruhi watches me, an inscrutable look on her face. Finally, she says, "Have you ever wanted a sibling, _senpai_?"

I pull my knees close to my chest, and stare out into the indistinct blur of buildings. "…No. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"What do you-"

"HARU- _CHAN_!" It's Hani, shouting at the top of his lungs as he runs towards us. "Haru- _chan_! It's bad! Hika- _chan_ and Kao- _chan_ are really fighting!"

Haruhi jumps to her feet, "Hani- _senpai_!"

"Ah, Yuu- _chan_!" Hani turns to me, and pulls me to my feet. "Haru- _chan_ , please come! You have to stop them!"

Mori's right behind him, and he extends a hand to me. I take his arm, and we set off at a slower amble. Hani drags Haruhi by the arm, and they begin running downhill. Looking up, I see that Mori's brows are furrowed and he's looking unusually severe.

"It's bad," I say.

Mori nods. "It's gone on too long."

"They've never fought before?" I ask, holding my skirts up.

Mori slows down. "No."

"I find it hard to believe," I admit.

Mori grunts.

Without much to go on, we make our way to the third music room as fast as we can. I stifle my pants, forcefully tucking in every desperate strand for air. We're at the door, when I catch the ends of Haruhi's exclamation. The door opens just in time, as I blink away the black spots at the corner of my eyes. Heart stammering, rabbiting, seized by a rush of something – the blackness fades, and I look up to find Haruhi marching over, a death glare set on the twins. She snatches their – Beelzenef? – out of Hikaru's hands, and turns it over.

"…Blank?" Haruhi reads, anger fading almost immediately.

The twins sidle up to each other, congratulating themselves for a prank well done. I blink, and look up to Mori. He seems… irate. I might have misread the twitch of his eye.

"Now, we believe…" Hikaru loops his arm around Haruhi's shoulder.

"That you'll let us visit your house," Kaoru continues, sliding an arm around Haruhi's waist.

Mori returns my look, black eyes boring into mine impassively. I try to smile, awkwardly, and Mori returns it – quick, quiet and small. Someone clears their throat, and I realise that my hand is still holding onto Mori's elbow. I let go, eyes darting to somewhere safer.

"Yuuka- _san_ ," Kyoya says, approaching us. "I'm sorry you were dragged into this."

I shake my head, and catch Kaoru staring in our direction oddly. "No, I'm glad that everything has worked out."

Kyoya pushes his glasses up. "Yes, I believe that Hikaru and Kaoru will be back to their usual standards after this tantrum."

"Don't blame it on Haruhi," I smile lightly.

Kyoya raises a brow, and a charming smile makes its appearance on his face. "Of course not; I have no reason to."

Mori guides me away. "You know."

"What," I say.

He glances at where Haruhi is currently motionless on the chair. "About Haruhi."

"Yes," I say.

Mori waits. Quiet, assessing. And then, as I'm about to turn away, he says, "I am happy."

"You… are happy," I repeat, lost, before yesterday's car ride informs me. "Oh. That's good."

He looks up, charting a path straight and irrevocably towards where Hani is tugging at Haruhi's sleeve. I watch, and feel the first pangs of something bitter.

"It's because the Host Club is like a home," I muse.

"Yes." Mori turns back to me. "Do-"

"Nakahara- _senpai_ ," Kaoru says, handing Beelzenef over to me. "Would you mind handing this back to Nekozawa- _senpai_?"

"Yeah," Hikaru adds, slinging an arm over Kaoru's shoulders. "Don't want to risk seven years of bad luck."

"Umehito- _san_ isn't going to curse you," I smile. "He's not unreasonable."

Hikaru shrugs, a boyish grin appearing on his face like second nature. "Nah, we're not going to risk it."

"I hope you didn't steal it from him," I say.

Kaoru shakes his head, "we only borrowed it."

"I think he will appreciate you returning it yourselves," I say, placing Beelzenef back in Kaoru's hand. "Or even just taking care of it."

Hikaru shrugs, peeling Beelzenef out of Kaoru's hand and flinging it back into the pile. I can't help cringing, eyes trailing after the puppet. But the thought vanishes as Hikaru slides a hand around my back, and Kaoru crowds in as well. I shrink in on myself, trying to pull away from their arms without making too big of a scene. Mori's just watching from the side. He seems okay. So this must be normal.

"In any case, since you're here now," Hikaru says.

"Why don't we play a game?" Kaoru continues, and I can hear the harmless mirth in his voice.

It's not – it's nothing big. I carefully extract myself from their hold, twitching uneasily. They're just being friendly. I laugh it off, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear. This is nothing.

"I'm afraid I'm late for an appointment with Hana," I say, and dart towards the door. "Goodbye."

 _Why do I still feel…_ bad _about it?_

I make a sharp turn at the seal, and burrow straight into someone. Staggering back, I come to my senses. Hirose- _sensei_ regards me with a neutral look.

"Hirose- _sensei_ ," I greet. "I'm sorry; I wasn't looking where I was going."

Hirose- _sensei_ raises a brow, sliding his book under his arm. And then, surprisingly, a smile. "Why, I should be terrified if you started."

"I'll be more careful," I promise.

"I'm sure you will." Hirose- _sensei_ points out, and I hastily untangle my hands from where they'd reached across to hold myself tight. "Office hours close at five."

I nod, lips sealed in a line. "I understand. I have to be somewhere now. If you'll excuse me."

Hirose- _sensei_ nods. "See you."

He strides away. And the weight of what I'd been holding in gushes over me. I blink the tears away, dabbing them away.

 _How childish._ I breathe in again. _Let's see…a right after the sunflowers, and then past the Roman arch…_

"Hana!" I say, and then to the hunched figure beside her. "Aoi- _kun_?"

Aoi smiles, abashed. He ducks down and buries his face among the flowers. Hana pushes her vase towards me. It's a quaint combination of daisies and hibiscuses, and a tiny tiger lily drooping by the side. She grins, teeth white and flashy.

"How's it?" Hana chirps.

"It's unique, definitely," I say. "What's the tiger lily for?"

"Oh," Hana says, turning the vase to face her. "Um, well… No one was taking it, so…"

"It's supposed to mean wealth," Aoi explains, "but it's wilting."

I turn to Aoi's masterpiece. It's a beautiful assortment of baby's breath and pink roses.

"That's gorgeous, Aoi- _kun_!" I say, walking around the table.

Hana nods. "It is! And it's his first time here too!"

"Well, you're both making good work," I say, shooting Aoi a smile.

He returns it, faintly. Hana presses on:

"We could have done so much more if you'd just joined me at the start of the year."

Aoi flushes. "I couldn't… Hana- _chan_ , you know how my grandfather gets."

"Ugh," Hana sticks out her tongue. "But you've done so many good things – like that door and the rose gar-"

Aoi shakes his head hurriedly, decidedly making minute adjustments to his arrangement.

"Eh, if he ever needs a bouquet, you can count on me." Hana puffs her chest out. "Monkshood, yellow carnations, petunias… I've got them all covered!"

Aoi chuckles. "I have you on speed-dial."

"So what's changed now?" I ask, reaching out for my very own vase. "Did your grandfather change his mind?"

Aoi stiffens. "No. I – I changed mine."

There's a silence that follows, and Hana's chewing on her lip.

"If it comes down to it," Hana finally says, voice so low I almost miss it. "You could pretend you're here for me."

"Sora- _chan_ would have my head," Aoi bites back. "She's terrifying."

"Only to men," Hana says flippantly, and then shoots me a nervous look. "I mean, uh…"

"Sora- _san_ isn't terrifying to me," I say offhandedly, picking through the bunch of flowers.

Hana laughs awkwardly. "Of course not! Sora's… well, she's Sora."

"Right," Aoi adds. "Here, baby's breath."

"Thanks," I say, and Aoi gives me a smile.

He returns to his vase, fussing over the tiniest details. But even then, it's obvious that he's got a glow to his face and a straightness to his back – shoulders rolled back, fingers moving with incredible dexterity. Hana looks lost in thought, however, eyes trained on the bottom of my vase.

"What's wrong, Hana-"

"Yuuka," Hana says, too severe. Her gaze doesn't let up from the vase. "I can trust you, right?"

Aoi and I exchange a look, and then his eyes widen.

"Yuuka," Hana says again.

"Hana," Aoi cuts in, desperate. "Your – the scissors are too near the edge."

Hana swallows, and pulls me out of the room. "I'm in love with Sora."

I nod. "Have you told her?"

Hana pauses, and I realise that her hands are balled into fists. "Yeah. Every day."

She turns to me, and her face is all scrunched up, like she's trying not to cry. Hana's glare, frankly, could be terrifying. But with the way her ears are burning red, and the glassy hint of tears in her eyes, I can only do one thing: my arm reaches over, pulls her in for a hug. Hana returns it, but hurriedly pulls away.

"Wait, wait, wait, I need to check," Hana says, hiccupping. "Do you get what I'm saying?"

I smile. "You're in love with Sora."

"Yeah," Hana says, breathing out shakily. "I'm like, _really_ gay."

"Oh," I say.

"Yeah," Hana says, and then burrows her head into my chest. "Are you okay with it?"

"You're my first friend, Hana," I say. "How could I not be okay with you?"

Hana wriggles around. "Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh."

"Ugh?"

Hana extracts her face, huffing and blowing a stray strand out of her face. "I can't believe it. You're too chill."

"Would you rather I wasn't?" I tease, brushing her hair away.

"No, it's just… I've been working myself up to it the whole time," Hana explains, eyes whelming with tears again. "Like, just, from the start, I was – I wasn't sure if you'd push me away."

I nod. "I'll admit I don't know much about this, but I know you. And you're a good person."

Hana grins, and sighs. "Now I can say all my gay jokes in front of you without it being weird."

"Have you been holding it in all the time?"

Hana sniffs, "You bet."

She meets my eyes, and starts laughing. That day, something inside me felt a little lighter. And I think it had to do with the tiny, blustering girl in my arms.

* * *

"Dinner with the Hitachiins?" I echo.

Mom nods, smiling, "It seems like Yuzuha- _san_ 's taken a liking to you."

She's all dressed and ready, rearranging some spreadsheets. I remove my shoes slowly, hand feeling for the shoe cabinet and holding on to steady myself. Mom puts her reading glasses on, and narrows her eyes at the screen.

"That's such quick notice," I say, blinking away the sudden black spots as I straighten up.

Mom sighs, clicking the mouse. "I know, right? Well, most of the deal is settled, so it should just be a casual socialising affair."

"I'll be ready in ten minutes," I say.

She doesn't reply, busy typing something else. I walk over to my room, and search for a trusty blouse. Dinner will probably entail at least an hour and half of fine dining, followed by another hour of a house tour, and another for whatever dredging negotiations. I would bring a book, but that would be rude to our hosts. And given that Mom's broken out the hairpin that Dad got her… I pace over to my desk and pull out the tube of lipstick. It glimmers knowingly in my palm, and burns a vivid red over my lips.

I dab the ends with a wet tissue, softening the edges. There.

"Yuu?" Mom calls. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," I say, gathering a satchel small enough to fit my phone, wallet and the lipstick.

Mom fits her laptop into its case, and looks up. When she does, her face lights up incredibly. Mom turns away, pressing her ring finger softly to her eyes.

"You're all grown up, Yuu," Mom says, rounding the table.

I pull her in for a hug. "I learnt from the best."

"Of course you did," Mom says, eyes all crinkly. "Now let's go before we're late!"

We make our way down, and Mom is chattering away about a few errands to run before the end of the week. She falls silent during the car ride, however, checking her phone and drafting out several emails. It's only when we round the bend into the Hitachiins' home that she reapplies her lipstick and brightens up into a sociable version of herself.

"Ready?" Mom asks, a twinkle in her eye.

"Yes," I say, and then to Chauffer Yin, "thank you for dropping us here."

"Yes, thank you," Mom adds.

Chauffer Yin bows his head a little.

The Hitachiin Mansion is… opulent, to say the least. It's hypocritical of me to say so, but the amount of gold leaves affixed to the bamboo forest on either side of the building, as well as the wash of marble everywhere the light touches… I feel severely underdressed, and even then this is the most I've bothered dressing up for.

A butler walks out, bowing deeply to us. "Nakahara- _san_? If you would follow me."

We do, Mom linking arms with me. The large wooden doors swing open to reveal a parade of French maids, hands folded right over left before their aprons. Big grins, flashing whites, and an appropriate forty five degree bow, greeting. I smile, but meet no one's eyes. The line-up leads to a dramatic whorl of stairs, and at the top, Hitachiin Yuzuha, in a colourful shawl sweeping past the polished railing. She smiles, a glimmering impression of an inviting and benign hostess, and gathers her way down with every step.

"Asami- _san_ , you're just in time," Yuzuha says, catching Mom's hands in hers. "Good evening to you too, Yuuka- _chan_."

I bow, as Mom parries her with evenly-matched decorum. "I hope this dinner was no trouble."

"Oh," Yuzuha says, raising a brow, "but what is a dinner without some trouble?"

The butler from before walks up to Yuzuha. "Madam, dinner is ready."

Yuzuha nods. "And my sons?"

"Minatozaki- _kun_ left to fetch them," he replies, checking a pocket watch. "Around an hour ago. They should be ready."

"An hour," Mom mouths to me, brows raised in surprise.

Yuzuha catches that, her hand on Mom's forearm, guiding. "Oh, I suppose it runs in the family."

Mom chuckles, polite. "Yuuka here only sought ten minutes. She still has quite a bit to learn."

"Yuuka- _chan_?" Yuzuha echoes, as we pass by what I think is our third chandelier. "Oh, Yuuka- _chan_ looks lovely. That's a pretty lip colour, dear."

"Thank you," I say, and Mom winks at me.

The dining area is brightly lit, marking my fourth chandelier since entering the mansion. The table is set exactly for five, even if its capacity greatly outweighs that measly number. Hikaru and Kaoru rise from the table, hair dyed back to normal. As they spot me, I can't help but note that one of them is better at hiding his surprise. It flickers, and then dulls into something like resignation. I nod, and the one more skilled at nonchalance offers a smile. The other follows it with something similar to their act in the Host Club.

"My sons, Hikaru and Kaoru," Yuzuha says with a sweeping motion. "This is my friend, Asami- _san_ , and her daughter, Yuuka- _chan_."

"We know Yuuka- _senpai_ ," one of them says, as the other follows it up with, "she's Mori- _senpai_ 's customer."

The first twin blinks, and flashes the other a look. Yuzuha, too, huffs ever so gently. Mom, meanwhile, laughs.

"Are you cheating on that Ootori boy, Yuuka?" Mom teases, pulling my chair out for me.

"Ootori?" Yuzuha repeats, angling herself to face us. "You mean Ootori Kyoya?"

"You're dating Kyoya- _senpai_?" the twins repeat.

Mom winks at them – she's really pulling out all the stops – and leans in to whisper conspiratorially, "What other Ootori is there?"

I shake my head. "Kyoya- _san_ and I are only classmates."

"Alright, alright," Mom says, hands up in mock-surrender. "Let's not embarrass Yuuka."

"Well, Yuuka- _chan_ , you know what to do," Yuzuha adds anyway. "Strike while the iron is hot – that red tint's a good first start!"

I bite down exasperation, and reach for my glass of water instead. The twin on the left – the kinder one – catches my eye and smiles. He starts to change the topic, mercifully, and Mom jumps in on the opening. It works, thankfully; the rest of dinner is occupied with talk of industry trends and rumoured policies.

"… speaking of swimsuits, Yuuka- _chan_ , your idea of accessories was perfect!" Yuzuha says, turning to me.

"The execution made it work," I say.

"You're so modest, Yuuka- _chan_! _Oh_ , Asami- _san_ , wouldn't it be great if we could…" Yuzuha launches into yet more talk about new products and biotechnology.

I hide a smile behind the napkin as Mom struggles to keep up. Looking up, however, I find that the twins are completely silent, backs straight and hands mechanically mimicking the flow of proper dining etiquette. The twin on the right grows sulkier, seeming imperceptibly ticked off by this entire procession of porcelain plates and bulky spoons.

"Yuzuha- _san_ ," I pipe up, "I remember Hikaru- _kun_ had a version of Cordonia Flight that I've been looking forward to borrow. If it's alright, do you mind if he shows me it?"

Yuzuha blinks, a pause in her poised demeanour, "Oh. Is that so, Hikaru?"

The twin on the right narrows his eyes, and the twin on the left intercepts. "Yeah."

"Go ahead, Yuuka- _chan_ , we old people won't want to bother you," Mom adds.

The twin on the left rises from his chair, and then, tugging at the twin on the right's arm, "Hey, Kaoru, you remember where you left it?"

"…yeah," 'Kaoru' says grudgingly. "C'mon."

I follow as they lead us out to the foyer. It's empty, and we're out of earshot.

"Sorry, Hikaru- _kun_ ," I say, directing my words to the surly twin who's still barely hiding his irritation. "I remembered you were playing a game while we were shooting. I thought you might want to step out for a bit."

He frowns. "I'm not Hikaru."

"No, you're annoyed," I say. "And you seem annoyed at me."

Kaoru can't help breaking into a smirk. Hikaru huffs, in that same small way Yuzuha did, and scratches the back of his head.

"Well, whatever," Hikaru surmises.

We stand for another awkward moment before Kaoru kindly suggests that we head up to the Game Room anyway.

"They won't be done for another hour," Kaoru says, apologetic.

"That's alright," I say. "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that we'd be imposing on you tonight."

Kaoru shakes his head, but levels Hikaru with a worried gaze. He falls silent, and falls in step next to Hikaru. I fall behind, following them up the stairway. It's when we're just past the second vase of flowers that Hikaru makes a sharp turn and shuts the door loudly. Kaoru stiffens, but continues trudging up the stairs anyway. I manage to catch up next to him.

"Should you leave him alone?" I ask.

Kaoru slows down for me. "He's probably playing on his phone. I shouldn't leave a guest alone."

"You're still playing host," I joke, and Kaoru smiles, somewhat poignant.

"It's an occupational hazard," he says.

We wind up on the third floor, and Kaoru turns left. It's another set of double-doors, opens inward to display darkness. Kaoru enters without hesitation, hand pressed against the wall once – the room lights up, and immediately it seems as though the entire Somi Entertainment Corporation is based in the Hitachiin Game Room.

"Do you play games, Yuuka- _senpai_?" Kaoru asks, picking up a controller absentmindedly.

"I never had the chance," I say. "What's your favourite?"

Kaoru straightens up, eyes widening. "Really? Not even Potemon?"

"Not even Potemon," I say, joining him on an opposite beanbag.

"Here," Kaoru hands me a tiny, phone-like device. "A Pocketboy. I think we have the original Potemon series somewhere."

I wait as Kaoru ruffles through a cabinet. "Kaoru- _kun_."

It's slight, and I would have missed it if I weren't looking out for it. Kaoru twists his head and then turns the rest of his body to face me. "Yeah?"

"Do you play games?"

Kaoru laughs. "You were so serious, Yuuka- _senpai_ , I almost thought it was something big. Yeah, I do."

"Did you come up with the 'Which One is Hikaru' game?" I ask, flipping the Pocketboy over in my hands.

Kaoru is silent, and then he continues going through the cabinets. "No, Hikaru did. He came up with the name too, hah."

Kaoru finally finds the drive he's been searching for, and walks over. I watch as he handles the Pocketboy with utmost care, pressing the drive in and then turning it on. A smart, cheerful tune whistles from the device.

"Do you enjoy playing that game?" I say.

Kaoru blinks. "I wouldn't call it a game. Why do you ask?"

"You looked shocked when I called your name," I say. "Hikaru- _kun_ too."

He looks at me, quietly assessing. And then, fiddling with the buttons of the Pocketboy, he says, "No one's gotten it right before – except Haruhi."

The question is unspoken – _how did you figure it out_?

"I can't tell on sight alone," I say, "but Kaoru- _kun_ , you're cautious because you're curious. Hikaru- _kun_ is cautious because he's protective."

Kaoru smiles. "Isn't it usually the opposite?"

"You're here, talking to me," I point out. "I think that counts for something."

"You're not scary, Yuuka- _senpai_ ," he says, chuckling. "It's a simple level game. Press this to jump, and that to dodge."

I do as he says, watching the mushroomed figure bounce from branch to branch. For a while, only the bubbly background music and the squeak of my character's shoes echo in the room. Before long, I die on the ninth level, and a wobbly sad tune peals incessantly, urging me to restart the game. Kaoru lets up on the staring, and walks over to turn on the large screen affixed to the wall.

"Yuuka- _senpai,_ have you heard of overcooked?"

* * *

I think… Kaoru and I have some sort of understanding. It's not entirely clear; without our parents' interference, we would probably never have made friends, or even acquainted ourselves. But we're patient creatures, and I suppose that is where our similarities begin and end. Hikaru, on the other hand, pops out of his room when Mom and Yuzuha drop by the Game Room, and plays his Host persona to its full potential. With every praise Mom showers on the twins, Yuzuha deflects them accordingly with polite depreciation.

"All unhappy families are unhappy in their own ways," Mom says as soon as we leave the mansion, sighing. "Did you see how Yuzuha- _san_ ignored her own sons throughout dinner? You must talk to them more often, Yuu."

"They're very different in school," I say. "The Host Club is like a second family to them."

"Some families are chosen," Mom nods absently, patting my hand. "Did you have a good dinner?"

"Yes."

"Me too," Mom says, and flashes me a tired smile.

* * *

The next few days at the Host Club are no less exciting; a young boy, by the name Shiro, had been offered an apprenticeship by Tamaki. Where he had been glaring at Tamaki's every movement (and even broken a tea set) previously, it seemed like today was a total shift. Where Tamaki used to lounge, his princely parlour had been usurped by Shiro.

Hana, ticked off, bites into her slice of cake. "Ugh."

"Is something wrong, Hana- _senpai_?" Haruhi asks, refilling our cups.

"No, it's just that… children bother me," Hana says finally. "Especially smug ones like him."

Haruhi laughs. "He's just playing it up."

"I know," Hana says, still frowning.

Sora flicks her on the forehead. "You're at least six years older than him."

"I know!" Hana says. "Doesn't make it any less irritating."

Sora levels her with an even look, and then relaxes into the crooks of the chair. Balancing her chin on her palm, her eyes soften as she gazes over at the tiny debacle. Hana blinks, eyes following her slightest motions.

"Still, they managed to patch it up, didn't they?" Sora says. "Hina- _chan_ and Shiro- _chan_?"

"You're such a romantic," Hana shoots, picking up her teacup.

Shiro mutters something to the crowd of girls gathered by him, sending them swooning. And then, coolly, he gives a half-hearted wave on his way out. Hana swallows her tea noisily, exhaling loudly when he's gone. The hordes begin leaving soon, tittering to themselves the charms of an elementary school kid.

"Good riddance," Hana mutters under her breath. "May there be no-"

The doors burst open again. Hana's left brow begins twitching, and Sora sets her hand down on Hana's knee. A couple of girls, decked in mauve sailor uniforms, strut in. I catch one of their eyes, and she winks. She's very pretty – pale hair falling over her shoulders, and a sharp pair of eyes. Tamaki rushes over to greet them, his tear-stained face replaced with a refreshing facade.

"Lobelia," Sora whispers.

"Oh, yeah," Hana says. "That's the Zuka Club, isn't it?"

"You know them, Hana?" I ask.

Before Hana can answer, the three ladies begin belting out their club name and unleashing the costumes they have stashed… somewhere. Petals, white and long, swirl effortlessly as the pretty one dances over to us. Their leader, I presume, pirouettes over too and rounds up on Haruhi.

"Young lady, what are you doing here?" the leader cries, thoroughly affronted. "In a den of wolves, you must feel so trapped and stifled."

"Not exactly," Haruhi replies.

"Benio- _sama_! It's a blossoming lily here!" the pretty girl from earlier says, a hand on the frame of the couch where Sora and Hana are seated. "True love, a shining beacon in the centre of this thorny curse!"

Sora blinks, and inches away from her hand. Hana watches, wary, even as she slowly stands. Benio coos over them for a moment, and then redirects her attentions back to Haruhi. The pretty girl sidles onto the arm of my couch instead, the highlight on her cheeks winking in the fluorescent light. She holds a hand out and begins stroking my hair – the same dread builds up in my throat, confining my arms to the strained silence of my sides.

She smiles at me, lips too red and teeth too white. I shudder, gaze falling away. _It's just a stroke of the hair._ And then she picks up my hand, toying with the joints of each finger. I tug my hand away with an awkward laugh, hiding its clammy discomfort in the folds of my skirt. My fist unfurls into a sweltering range of emotions, all claustrophobic and foggy. It's hard to breathe.

"You stole my mechanical pencil?" Haruhi asks with a deliberately measured tone. "To _auction_ it?"

Someone utters a few words of comfort or excuse. Haruhi's looking down, her face carefully hidden. Tamaki, blissfully ignorant, slides up to her with his own pencil in hand.

"You can have my own, Haruhi!" Tamaki exclaims, shifting uncomfortably between his signature optimism and a strained puppy-eyed look. "Don't be mad, we can get your pencil back if –"

At that, Haruhi lifts her head, turning away from Tamaki and facing me instead. Tamaki promptly melts into what seems to be a pile of soot, drawing circles on the ground. Benio, or one of the Lobelia girls, readies herself to intercept Haruhi. But instead –

"Yuuka- _senpai_ , let's go," Haruhi says, spinning on her heels and striding resolutely out the door.

It isn't until we're out the music room and past the first corridor that Haruhi turns back to me, her smile apologetic. "Sorry, Yuuka- _senpai_ , it seemed like you were really troubled."

I hold onto the window ledge, blinking the spots away. "Thank you, Haruhi."

She waves it away, but there's still a silver of concern in her eyes. "Hana- _senpai_ and Sora- _senpai_ seemed troubled too… if only there was some way I could have gotten them out of there."

"You're not troubled, Haruhi?"

"Eh? Oh, I'm angry alright," Haruhi says, brow twitching. "But I'll talk to them next club session. Are _you_ alright, _senpai_?"

"I'm better now," I say, carefully arranging my face into something like that of a smile. "Thank you, Haruhi."

Haruhi nods, and then, quietly, "Ah! I almost forgot, we're out of coffee powder."

"Coffee powder?"

"It's because Tamaki- _senpai_ insisted that we switch over to instant coffee on special days," she explains. "Well, since I've got the afternoon off, I might as well head out to get some. Do you want to come along, Yuuka- _senpai_?"

Haruhi is a good kid; earnest, tactful and considerate. I nod, marvelling at the relief in her eyes. It's easy to see how she's fallen neatly into the form of a Host – her friendly, charming demeanour is so honest it beguiles you into opening up. We chat peacefully about the developments of the latest economic policy, sidetracking into the opening of new ramen chains and closing fish markets.

It's expressly mundane, I suppose, but the first time on a public bus and the sight of actual sailor uniforms has me charmed. The puffy yellow dress I have on feels sharply jarring against the palette of an ordinary afternoon. Haruhi catches sight of the look on my face and chuckles.

"Sorry, it's just my first time taking the bus," I say.

"Oh, no, it's okay – Tamaki- _senpai_ would have squealed at this 'commoner experience'," Haruhi says, rolling her eyes. "Made the entire club come on an excursion."

I hide a smile behind my hand. "Well, it's not like I haven't seen this in dramas. Rich people really are terrible, huh."

"Some of them are just ignorant," Haruhi surmises. "But yeah, some of them really are terrible – I mean, at a certain point, so much wealth becomes unnecessary."

"That's true," I say. "Being a billionaire shouldn't be an achievement. It only matters what you do with those funds."

"You're a rich person yourself, though, Yuuka- _senpai_ ," Haruhi points out.

"I've been found out!" I tease. "No, but really, I've been thinking about it, and I'd like to do something for paediatric care; be it a trust fund, or even becoming a doctor in the future."

"That's amazing, _senpai_."

"What about you, Haruhi?"

"I'm studying to be a lawyer," she says. "Family law."

"You sound very convicted."

"I am," Haruhi says, firm, and then, "wait, was that a pun?"

We wind up giggling, and almost miss our stop. The bus driver waves as we clumsily belt out and coordinate ourselves under the lime-green shelter.

"You know, _senpai_ , if you have anything you want to talk about, I'm here to listen," Haruhi says abruptly.

The sound of traffic, white and ceaseless, speeds past us. A middle schooler in a red hoodie zips past us on a long board, yelling apologies.

"I will."

* * *

 **AN:** I messed about with the timeline because for some reason that felt better to me, and for the sake of building up to the beach outing. If this is a very messy chapter, I understand - and perhaps also because the reveal of Haruhi's gender as well as being able to tell the twins apart is such a double-whammy in terms of OC cliches. But personally, it's about time! I'm just curious about what you guys feel about the whole "not being able to tell the twins apart" thing, actually, or even "not being able to tell Haruhi's a girl" thing. To me, I think it's feasible, just that it mandates some prior interaction.

Reviews are always appreciated!


	9. one love, two mouths

**AN:** Finals are _finally_ over! I'm so glad that I was able to continue hammering this out, it's been tiring just revising for the past month. On the other hand, I'm surprised that people are still reading this story despite its slow pace and actually taking the time to review; it really made my day haha.

 _Keelan1210_ : I'm glad! I've always thought that the main character had to earn it a bit, but for the sake of narration it made sense to allow her to identify either one now. I can't keep referring to them as "the other twin" ;;

 _Momochan77:_ Thank you so much :') I think right now I'm derailing a lot into the Akito route, and this chapter especially, but I promise the next one is just going to be Mori-filled! Honestly I planned for this fic to only have ten chapters at first, but it's spiralling into something a lot bigger, and I think I'll have to skimp on some parts if I really want to properly flesh out and make the mori-yuuka ship palatable.

* * *

 _one love, two mouths_

* * *

Shopping with Haruhi is an entirely new experience. She's well-versed in the sections of the grocery store, picking out brands with an eagle-eyed flourish. I pick out a pack of green tea when she asks if there's anything I'd like, she pays, and I carry half the load. The fluorescent light above swims, a little yellow and searing. I blink the spots away again.

"…to my house?"

"I'm sorry?" I say, whirling around to face blackness. The spots whittle away again as I blink.

Haruhi's examining an apple from her bag. "Do you want to drop by my house, _senpai_?"

"If you don't mind," I say.

She smiles. "Of course not! Oh, but you have to keep it a secret from Mori- _senpai_ , or else the entire club will know."

"Mori…?"

Haruhi smiles again, a finger to her lips. I think I see what Tamaki (and Hikaru and Kaoru) have much to fawn over. I nod, and the careless lilt of her steps catches me all over again.

 _Haruhi is really a good kid_ , I think.

"It's a little small," she says as we round the bend to her apartment complex, "but it's comfortable for me and my dad."

"Is he home?"

"No, he's out working. Here we are!"

I hum, passing by the tiny garden bed. "It's a lovely place. Do you tend to these flowers?"

"Oh, no," Haruhi says. "They belong to the landlord's wife. They're really nice, aren't they?"

"I think so. They must be very loved."

Haruhi chuckles, and pushes the door open with a shoulder. "I'm home!"

She inches against the wall and lets me pass though. Once the groceries are set aside, I can fully take in the apartment. It's as she's said – comfortable, cosy, practical. There's not much around, besides the fundamentals. A clean, weathered table with padded legs, faded pink curtains, a small television set and a tiny drawer beneath. There's a separate, smaller room in the hallway across.

"Do you want anything to drink!"

"Just tea, if you don't mind," I call back. "Ah, we just bought green tea, do you want to try that?"

Even her kitchen is the same; utensils kept neatly in their slots, the countertop wiped down with a folded purple square, plates stacked in neat symmetry. There's care and detail given to every piece of this apartment she calls home. As the kettle boils, Haruhi gasps.

"Oh, right, I almost forgot, Yuuka- _senpai_ , do you want to meet my mom?"

"If that's alright."

"Of course it is," she says.

We walk into the smaller room across the sectioned living area. Haruhi's mom, at first glance, looks just like Haruhi – or the other way around, I suppose. There are tiny packets of sweets at the altar, and a few stalks of flowers bundled with a strip of ribbon. Haruhi reaches over, rearranges the flowers minutely, and then rests back on her knees.

"Hey mom, this is Yuuka- _senpai_. She's been taking care of me."

"Hello Fujioka- _san_ , I am Nakahara Yuuka. Haruhi has been taking care of me instead. You have a very good daughter. She's thoughtful and kind."

Haruhi laughs. " _Senpai_ , you don't have to say that."

"They're all true, though," I say. "And, Haruhi's been doing well in school. She's made a lot of friends."

"…yeah, yeah I have."

The softness of her voice catches me off guard. Haruhi blinks, and pulls herself up. "I'll go get the kettle, I think it's boiling."

"Alright."

I look back down, marvelling at the spotless altar. Those are traditional Japanese sweets, in red bean flavour. I make a mental note, if I ever visit again, I'll bring those.

" _Senpai,_ the tea's ready!"

It's a little sweeter than the ones I'm used to. Haruhi's got some snacks out, and they're the same as the ones at the altar.

"Ah, I got these in bulk," Haruhi says, rubbing at her nape.

"Mm, they're good."

We sit in silence for a while. And then Haruhi pipes up.

"Actually, _senpai_ , the last time you said you didn't want siblings. What did you mean?"

It's hard to remember what exactly I said 'last time', but I shrug. "Well, I've always been in the hospital when I was younger. I don't think I would have been a good sister."

Haruhi tilts her head to the side, fingers pinching another wrapped sweet. "You know, _senpai_ , I was thinking it over…"

"Yeah?"

"Well," Haruhi begins, flushing slightly, "I may have gotten it wrong the last time, but I get the feeling _senpai_ might have been a good younger sister."

I blink. Haruhi meets my eyes, embarrassed, and hastens to salvage her words:

"Ah, I don't mean to be – to be rude, that is, step out of place, I meant…"

"It's alright, Haruhi," I say, softening at the frenzy she's worked herself into.

Haruhi slumps back slightly, and pops the sweet into her mouth. As she's savouring it, her head bobs up and down in some satisfactory assessment. It's strange to think about it, but I suppose she's not wrong; at some point in time I decided to stop relying so much on Akito and instead carve out that persona of a self-sufficient individual. The arrangement's worked for years, now, and it's no doubt that it settles me somehow.

"I don't think I'd make a good younger sister," I say, and laugh. "Why would you say that?"

Her hands lower to her lap, and Haruhi begins speaking slowly, considering each and every word with a weighed pallor. "You always look so – alone, like you're waiting for someone."

"Mm," I say, unsure what to make of that, but feeling the urge to shift the topic towards something lighter. "You know, the Host Club certainly seems like a protective bunch of older brothers."

Haruhi glances up, and a mask flits across her features. "I wouldn't exactly call them that…"

"They're like a strange family," I continue musing, enjoying the theatrics of Haruhi's flinching brows. "You could see Tamaki- _san_ as the father, and as for the mother…"

Haruhi sighs, burying her face in her hands. "It's Kyoya _-senpai_."

"Oh?" I lean in. "Have they assigned roles already?"

"Yeah, Tamaki- _senpai_ made a fuss out of it before the ball, and somehow I got dragged into being his daughter." Haruhi rolls her eyes, but the corners of her mouth are lifted.

I take another sip of tea to ground myself. Focus. The warmth of the tea glows in an echo somewhere around the base of my stomach. Breathe.

"Are you okay?" Haruhi asks.

"Yeah," I smile. "I think Tamaki- _kun_ would be the kind to spoil his daughter, don't you think?"

Haruhi blanches, but manages to collect herself. "I'm not in a position to make any comments. But I suppose… he's good with children."

"Like Shiro- _kun_?"

"Yeah, I guess."

Her brows are furrowed, like she wants to say something more. Instead, there's the jingling of keys, a muffled melody, and the front door swings open. Haruhi turns around, and there's an unknown lady with several grocery bags hanging off her arms. With practiced efficiency, Haruhi rises and greets the lady. She blinks, as do the sequins on her dress, and cranes her neck over to look at me.

And then, with a pleasant menace, struts over. I rise, bowing. The practiced sneer on her face falters, before being replaced squarely.

"Haruhi never has a friend over! You must be Ayanokoji- _chan_?" There's ease in the way her voice settles, firmly between a warning and a grin.

"I'm afraid I'm not Ayanokoji- _san_ ," I say, bowing again. "Nakahara Yuuka, in my second year."

"Dad, Yuuka- _senpai_ is a guest!" Haruhi chastises.

"Oh! Yuuka- _chan_!" Haruhi's father says, throwing all caution to the wind. He's about to wrap his arms around me when Haruhi scoots over and pulls him a safe distance away.

"Dad! You can't do that to our guest!" Haruhi chides again, and it's incredible to watch how a man at least two heads taller can shrink into something like a doe-eyed child.

"Thank you, Haruhi," I say, grateful.

She smiles at me, reassuring, and then shakes her head at her father.

"So you're Yuuka- _chan_? Can I call you that? I'm Haruhi's father, you can just call me Ranka~!"

"Hello, Ranka- _san_ , sure," I say. "Haruhi said you weren't going to be home early."

Ranka raises a perfectly-groomed brow. "Is that so~ Haru- _chan,_ are you bringing home cute girls when I'm not home?"

Even from here I can hear Haruhi roll her eyes. She continues unpacking the groceries.

"But I'm glad she's finally got some decent company," Ranka whispers, cupping his mouth. "Besides Kyoya- _kun,_ of course!"

Ranka ushers for me to sit. "Now, tell me all about Haru- _chan_ at school! That girl never says anything useful to her father."

"Haruhi's a good kid," is all I can manage. "I'm afraid we're not in the same class, so I don't know a lot-"

Ranka waves my disclaimer away dismissively. "How do you know Haruhi then? Is it from the Host Club? Were you also forced to join the club? Was it that-"

"Dad," Haruhi interjects, setting a cup of tea down before him. "You're overwhelming _senpai_. And I got the offer cabbage too."

"Oh, really? Well, I guess we can always have some kimchi," Ranka muses.

"I'll text you next time so we don't buy too much."

Haruhi taps twice on the wall, as though recalling something. But she shakes her head and returns to the crinkle of plastic bags and drawer squeaks.

"That's my girl," Ranka grins. "Now, Yuuka- _chan_ ~"

I take another sip of tea. "I visit the Host Club from time to time. I've been in Haruhi's care since."

It's a little embellishment, but Ranka swallows it up greedily, eyes wide and fond. He smiles, flashing whites.

"Our Haruhi's such a charmer," he coos, and then, sits up straighter, "are you in love with Haruhi?"

"Dad!"

I laugh. "Oh, um, no, I'm afraid not. Haruhi's like a little sister."

"She is, isn't she?" Ranka picks up, smooth like water on a duck's back. He's a great conversationalist, and it's clear especially how he's adapted his usual rapid-fire mannerism to better suit my pace. (Even though it's still pretty animated) "Haruhi just makes you want to protect her~"

He turns around as Haruhi returns to the table again. She folds her knees neatly under her weight, and reaches for her cup of tea. It's obvious that they're related, that even though she's seated at a distance from Ranka, her elbows are angled toward him – eyes shifting to his ever so often.

"I don't think Haruhi needs protecting," I say. "Haruhi has a… a shield around her, somehow. It works."

Ranka bursts out laughing, and Haruhi reaches over to punch him lightly on the arm. For a moment, I can see him and Mom just chatting away at tea; they'd make good friends. As the thought flashes across my mind, the words, too, stumble unbidden from my lips:

"Ranka- _san_ , Haruhi, what do you think of having dinner with my Mom tonight?"

Haruhi blinks, as does Ranka.

"Of course!"

* * *

The cabbage goes along with us, as do the fillet and the eggs. I'd barely stopped them from bringing a pot of rice too – "we have that at our place" – but the enthusiasm was appreciated. Ranka had removed his work clothes, and was now neatly spruced up in a dress shirt and black pants. I had the feeling that they had vastly overestimated my house, even as I tried to assure them that we lived in a simple apartment. Chauffer Yin's presence, cheerful and polite, did not abate their discomfort.

Amidst that, however, Mom was pleasantly surprised, and chirped happily that she'd make it back home early. So that was one thing down.

"Here we are," I say, unlocking the door.

Ranka blinks, but before he can comment on the simplicity of my home, Haruhi breathes a sigh of relief. And then they're all settling in, shoes neatly parked on the ledge, groceries on the table.

"Yuuka- _chan_ , do you live alone?"

"Oh, no, I live with my Mom," I say. "Can I get you anything to drink?"

Haruhi shakes her head, and Ranka is already lost in one of the photo frames on the shelves.

"I'll go change into something more comfortable. Please make yourselves at home."

Even as I'm swapping my school uniform for a shirt and skirt, Ranka continues chatting through the door. It's nothing of consequence, but all the same, it's not something I'm used to – not in a bad way, per se. It's just, Mom always gives me space. I've gotten used to the quiet, without feeling the need to fill it. When I'm out of my room, Haruhi's already folded all the bags and piled them away to the side. I catch her wandering eye, taking in every bit of the house.

"I'll show you around the kitchen," I say.

Ranka hops to his feet. "Of course, Yuuka- _chan_ ~"

I begin removing the various utensils I figure we'd need, and Ranka fills in the silence easily.

"Do you cook often, Yuuka- _chan_?"

"I make my own lunch, actually."

"That's just like Haruhi!" And then, "I didn't think there'd be such prudent kids at Ouran~"

Haruhi rolls her eyes and mutters something under her breath. To us, she says, "Why'd you get off early today, by the way?"

"Oh, just a little work accident. You too, I thought you'd be busy with the Host Club?"

"Yuuka- _senpai_ and I decided to skip for a bit," she says simply. " _Senpai_ , I'll wash the vegetables first."

I give her a nod. From the corner of my eye, I can see Ranka looking bemused.

"Ah, no, I just thought that Yuuka- _chan_ and Haruhi are really similar~" he grins. "Shall we start cooking the rice?"

We're in the middle of frying egg rolls when Mom comes home. She's in high spirits, all smiles, when she greets us. She's brought home an assortment of blue and green files, stowed away carefully under her arm.

"You must be Ranka- _san_ ," Mom greets, cheerful. "Hello, Haruhi- _chan_."

It's exactly as I've imagined – Mom and Ranka immediately start off on the same wavelength, chattering happily about their daughters and work. Haruhi shoots me a look, and we evict them from the tiny kitchen immediately.

"They really get along, don't they?" Haruhi says, as I begin washing up.

"I'm glad," I say. "I was a little worried that Ranka- _san_ would be reserved around us."

"Why do you say so?"

I blink at her curiously. "Ranka- _san_ seemed to think I was Ayanokoji- _san,_ and was rather wary."

"O-oh," Haruhi says. "Well, it's nothing to worry about anymore. I don't see her around much nowadays."

"Did she do something to you?"

"I suppose she threw my books into the fountain," Haruhi lists, "and tried to accuse me of assault."

Haruhi continues plating the remaining egg rolls with casual indifference.

"When was that?" I ask. "Was it before you were a Host?"

"Eh," Haruhi pauses, thinking. "I suppose, yes."

Well, I suppose Ranka has even less to worry about then. I grin, "Haruhi, you should really tell Ranka- _san_ about that."

"I can't!" Haruhi exclaims. "Dad will overreact."

"I don't mean what she did, I think he knows that," I clarify. "I meant that it happened before you were a Host proper."

"Oh," she says. "Well. I'll think about it… actually, how _did_ Dad know?"

…And that's a can of worms I should not have opened. I shrug, and begin taking out the cutleries. Haruhi springs forth from her daze, and helps me set the table. As we do so, snippets of our parents' conversation become more audible. If I hadn't orchestrated this meeting, I would have thought that Mom and Ranka were long-lost friends. Mom doesn't even bother toning down her laugh, even if she does hide it politely behind a hand.

"Ah, Yuu! And Haruhi- _chan_ , thank you for preparing dinner," Mom says, eyes folded into crescents. "Shall we eat?"

Dinner was amazing, even though the topic of conversations headed in an extremely different way as compared to that night at the Hiitachin's. This level of bantering worried me, until I realised that Haruhi was just munching away without a care. I guess she's either oblivious to it, or the tension is really just malign:

"…But _our_ Yuuka- _chan_ could solve the four by four cube in under five minutes~"

"Mom, I spent a year-"

"Oh, well, _our_ Haruhi- _chan_ came in first for all her Olympiads, didn't you~"

"…"

"That's wonderful, hey, Yuuka- _chan_ , didn't you manage to read The Ulysses when you were nine?"

"Mom, I took a year to-"

"Didn't Haruhi- _chan_ finish War and Peace when she was eight?"

"Ohohoho, is that so~ Yuuka- _chan_ , didn't you finish translating War and Peace when you were ten?"

…I really can't catch up. But despite the competitive glint in their eyes, Mom had not put on any of her usual negotiating face, nor tried to hide her distaste behind stilted smiles. Astutely, I followed Haruhi's example and continued eating too.

* * *

Before long, the night ended. We hailed a cab for them, and promised that they could pay us back by coming over for dinners more often. It's quite a miracle, really, because after all that banter, Mom and Ranka broke out into cheerful grins, energised by the achievements of their daughters. Mom leads me back into the apartment, her hand on the small of my back.

"I was surprised, Yuu," Mom says. "Haruhi- _chan_ is such a good kid."

"Isn't she?"

"But more than that," Mom says, lifting my face up and peering into it. At last, she smiles, and pats my head. "Well, I'm glad you're making friends."

I laugh. "Of course I am, I've told you about Hana- _chan_ and Sora- _san_ and –"

And then she's squeezing my cheeks, her voice taking on the cadence of Ranka's teasing lilt . "And do call me more often with surprises, alright? It's boring in the office with only Satou- _kun_ , you know~

"Yuu- _chan_ , you must rely on your mother a little more. You don't know how happy I was to hear you invite someone over so spontaneously!"

I nod, unable to quite speak with her hold on my cheeks. Mom's eyes soften, and her gaze seems to pierce right through me – unfocused, lost in her own thoughts (or memory?).

"You're really your father's daughter."

* * *

"Y-you're here again, Yuuka- _san_ ," Umehito's trembling voice brings me back.

I struggle to find my ground, knotting my fingers into the sides of my skirt. My head, swimming, shuns itself forwards and back. I breathe.

"Yes, Umehito- _san_ ," I say, praying that he doesn't notice the cracked skin of my lips. "It's been a while."

"Oh, yes," he says. "A-are you here for an appointment?"

"I am. You're getting better with light?"

Umehito cowers further under his robes. His black drapery seems to know no bounds, blooming vividly into even darker shades of violet or iodine or –

"Not, exactly," he says. "But you looked worried, so I…"

I shake my head and immediately regret the action. "I'm alright."

The smile I carve on my lips should convince him. The moments pass, and once again I'm seeing a convergence of shadows past him. The black spots in my vision are getting worse.

"- _san_? Yuuka- _san?_ "

"Ah, sorry, yes?"

"I asked where you were going," Umehito explains.

I pause. "My appointment."

He blinks.

"Oh, West Wing, fourth floor," I recite from the drudges of my mind.

Somehow it's getting harder to think clearly. Perhaps drinking too much tea last night was a mistake. I clear my throat and take a full, careful look around. There's not a lot of people milling about.

"It's been a pleasure, Umehito- _san_ , but I'll need to leave for my appointment now," I say, adding an apologetic smile for good measure.

He nods meekly. "I see. It's good to see you, Yuuka- _san_."

Umehito fades away behind a pillar, slinking on to his next pursuit of the dark arts. Ah. I never asked him about Beelzenef. I must be forgetting things, really. I sigh, and make my way to the West Wing instead.

Again, my silence must be particularly disconcerting. Akito looks somewhat disgruntled, but manages to hold his tongue. But perhaps we're both just inclined by our previous interaction. I should have known that I couldn't get away from making such a thorny statement.

"You look terrible," Akito finally says, breaking away from his aloof methods.

I blink. "Is that anything to say to a lady?"

"Not like you're much of one," he says, and sighs. "Have you gotten lunch?"

"Is that a proposition?"

Akito taps his fingers on his desk, irate. "Doctor's orders. Let's go."

And when I follow, he raises a brow. "You're losing your bite."

"Don't chew me out," I say out of reflex, and he grins.

"That's more like it."

Akito peels off his doctor's coat as we reach the foyer, and hands it to a nearby receptionist. "I'll be heading out for lunch."

"Which reminds me, where are we going?"

"The cake is better topped with suspense," Akito says, making an idiom up.

I roll my eyes. "Tasteless."

"Weren't you ready to go without question?"

"A change of circumstances," I say, and before I know it, we're standing before his car – a black, sleek monster. "Don't you have a chauffeur?"

He winks, equally sly. "He's having lunch."

Akito slides into the driver's seat with practiced efficiency, taking his time to adjust the settings and the rearview mirror. Even though it's clear that he's never had to drive this car, he does exude an air of capability. As he's done fitting the seatbelt across his chest, he gazes over to see me still standing there.

"I'm a safe driver," Akito promises, and then, "Or would you rather walk?"

It's strange. But I get in anyway. I don't know what to make of it – Akito has always been something of a mountain, shrouded in mist or fog, dipped in cool tones and unfathomable heights. Even as children, there was always a border between us. To have him so close, cloaked in the familiar silk of everyday life, is unnerving.

"You're pushy today."

"And you're easy to push today."

"Are you so lonely that you had to kidnap a high schooler for lunch?"

"Are you so lonely you would accompany your doctor for lunch?" he bites back.

I look out the window. "Sympathy is not empathy."

"It isn't," he agrees. "It's much worse."

I can't tell where we're going. But Akito seems unaffected, almost thoughtless. He drives on, lost in his own mind. A silver cat trots on by while we wait for the light. It pauses, perched on an imaginary line between the tessellations. And then we're zooming past, the cat no longer within view.

"Something's wrong with you."

He doesn't answer that, saying instead, "There is an order behind all things that even the gods cannot touch."

"Order?"

Akito looks over. "Sure."

"Are you quoting or have you gone prophetic on me?"

"Both," he says, "or neither."

I sigh, fingers tugging at my collar. I'm not good with cars, I suppose, if this strange retching is gurgling in the back of my head. It doesn't help that we're here, together, stuck in traffic like it's another weekend afternoon.

I press my fingers to my head, and Akito chooses now to take note.

"Are you car sick?"

"Conveniently," I say. "It's only your car."

Akito shrugs. "More variables – it's only today."

"It's only you-" I don't miss the way he stiffens. "Yes, nausea. Do you have a prescription on hand?"

"I'm a doctor, not a pharmacist."

"Ah, trial and error then?"

"You must be feeling well enough to banter like that," he concludes.

The car turns into what resembles the grandness of the Hiitachin residence. Curiouser and curiouser. Akito sees the look on my face, watches it dawn with almost a morbid glee.

"Welcome to the Ootori Manor."

* * *

"You must be courting death," I say, "bringing a minor over."

"No one else is home," he says, waving a maid away.

He knows what I mean; another maid, with practiced ease, looks at me for a moment, and then nonchalantly lowers her gaze. A sweeping performance of subservience, curious. Something gnaws at me, an unscratchable itch. I purse my lips.

Akito glances back at me, a once-over. I do my best not to jerk my shoulders back.

"You're jumpy today," he comments, off-handed. "Is _omurice_ good?"

"Good," I say. "Are you cooking?"

"Would you rather?" he asks, and then, without waiting for a response, "Ayako- _san_ is cooking."

So it was all arranged. I can't help but roll my eyes. The maid beside us – Ayako- _san_ , presumably – bows, and walks us to the dining room. There are at least two portraits of the master of the household, bearing down impassively on us as we walk past the hallway. Funny, I've never noticed it, but the Ootori boys are really carved from the same mould – flat black hair and silver-rimmed glasses. The glimmer of oil on canvas makes their impenetrable gaze even more mysterious.

"Surprised?"

"What," I say.

Akito pauses right after Kyoya's portrait. "Gold."

"Gold?"

"The glasses," he says, and then laughs. "Or bronze. Who knows, perhaps it's the varnish."

"How trite," I say. "Don't shoot the messenger."

"What, do you have more faith in Kyoya?" Akito says, turning his back on me as we cross the threshold. "He can't cook, you know?"

"Can you?"

"Can I?"

"You may."

"I may not," Akito says, shrugging playfully. Strange, that all throughout his childhood, he has never smiled like that towards me.

"You must," I deadpan, tucking a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

"I will not," he says, and holds out a chair for me.

"Ever the gentleman." I look over the dining room, cataloguing all of its width.

The dining table seems to stretch on forever, disappearing into a bouquet of carnations right before the head of the table. It's cold, I realise, elbows jolting back from the marble top. Akito huffs, amused, and relaxes back in his seat.

"The chairs are spaced out," I say.

"There are dinners for the directors on some evenings," Akito explains. "We work overtime then."

"So they have the courtesy to talk behind your backs at least."

"What further use do we have those portraits?" he jokes. "Well, it's livelier than our usual dinners."

I can't imagine living like this. But Akito seems perfectly content, staring off at some painting behind me.

"You're not going for gold?"

"I'm the consolatory silver," he snorts. "I'm thinking of going for business school once things have settled."

"…so something's wrong with you after all," I say.

He frowns, but before he can say anything, Ayako has balanced two plates of _omurice_ on her tray and is pointedly arranging the cutlery. She does a small, perfunctory bow.

"Thank you, Ayako- _san_ ," I say.

The maid doesn't so much as flinch, but I can tell that her gaze has widened. "Not at all, miss."

Akito nods, dismissive. And then, to me, "You must be at ease."

"Have you not heard of manners?" I ask, cutting into my dish.

He raises a brow, and mutters thanks for his food. "In present company, to be courteous is to be conspicuous. They will wonder who you are now."

The omelette is good. I swallow, against the salty grooves that have appeared in my throat. Somehow I don't really feel like eating. But the warmth that settles, sifting down the middle of my chest and down my stomach, is comforting. The colours of the _omurice_ too are warm, cloaked in puffs of steam.

"In present company," I echo, reaching for a glass of water. "You mean a conglomerate."

"Yes," he says wryly, "the Ootori family has always prided itself on its many mergers and collaborations."

"Merger and acquisition," I correct. "I can't believe you'd be interested in a third-rate start up."

"What-" For a moment he looks confused, genuinely. And then, "Don't belittle your mother. No, we're not looking into your company yet."

Yet. I force myself to take another bite of egg. "You're not?"

"Investment begets returns," he says. "We'll have wait and see."

"If it's not business, why am I here?"

"Can you not imagine?" he deadpans. "I just wanted you to eat."

"With you."

Akito levels me with a look, and then silently continues to eat. There's a shuffling of footsteps down the hallway. I clear my throat and resume eating as well. The walls have ears, here, and though I've always been prone to ignorance, I can't help being acutely aware today.

"…reminds me," he says, "How is Hirose- _sensei_?"

"Hirose- _sensei_? You know him."

"I would hope so."

… "He's a good teacher."

"Is he."

"Was he?"

Akito grudgingly smiles. An iota of amusement. "Yes."

"Why Hirose- _sensei_ in particular?"

"I thought he'd be up your alley."

"He asked me to join his third year class. Philosophy."

"And Kyoya?"

I shake my head. "Do all roads lead to Kyoya?"

"Not all; most." and when I scoff, he adds, "It's only natural. That boy never talks about what he's thinking."

"I had no idea he had a second father."

"Bold assumptions about the first," and then, "well, playing house is as hard as it gets."

"He plays house with the Host Club," I say. "Or Tamaki _-san_ does."

"Suoh- _san_ breaks more ceilings than he can afford," Akito mutters. "He will be out of roofs before he knows it."

I put my spoon down. "I'm finished."

"Are you?" he jibes. "Fine, you're not in the mood today."

"You say it as though I was ever in the mood to hear you yammer about class politics," I say. "I'll see myself out, thank you for the lunch."

I gather myself, and get out of the chair carefully. But I must have underestimated inertia, because as soon as I do so the spots appear in my eyes again and the rest of the world – Akito's lip curved in both ways – spins into a haphazardly threaded tapestry of 'here's and 'there's.

"Yuuka," Akito's calling, and then a warm cuff around my wrist.

I grip back. But my fingers are weak, and it's hard exactly to see the folds of a beige dress shirt before me. The tension doesn't let up. It's ringing between my ears. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Yuuka- _san_ ," Kyoya says, and his voice seems to be coming from a while away. Muffled. Lost.

"Yuu- _chan_?" Hani's cadence now, closer, lighter than the cramped static. And then it collapses into a dense deference. "Ootori- _san_."

I blink, forcing the spots away. "I'm good. Akito."

Akito frowns, but steps back, pulling away from my useless grasp. "You're back, Kyoya."

"Yes," Kyoya says, gaze finally shifting to Akito. "I've collected data on the water park."

Akito nods. "Good afternoon, Haninozuka- _kun_ , Morinozuka- _kun_."

Mori. I let my hand drop back to my side. Hani looks worried, but the strangeness of this gathering seems to be putting him on edge, rooting him to his position behind the threshold of the room. Mori's looming figure is hardly reassuring, too, and I can't bring myself to look him in the face. Akito clears his throat, and it's only then that Ayako- _san_ or someone else brings him a set of files.

"I should be getting back to work, Yuuka- _san_ ," Akito says.

"Thank you for having me," I say, mechanically.

"Kyoya, send Yuuka- _san_ back home," Akito says. "I'll see you for dinner."

Kyoya nods. But no one makes a move until Akito steps out – Mori stepping aside into the shadows briefly. Hani rushes to me, his hand on my elbow.

"Yuu- _chan_ , are you okay?"

"Yes, Hani- _senpai_ ," I say. "Why are you here with Kyoya- _san_?"

"We were visiting Kyo- _chan_ 's water park! He wanted to do some first aid for Takashi." And then, "Kyo- _chan_ , Yuu- _chan_ and I will sit in the living room first."

Without waiting for a response, Hani drags me out of the dining room. I don't have time to glimpse at Mori's face or decipher Kyoya's expression before we're away from the rest, as Hani expertly navigates us into a smaller lounge. This can't be the living room. The room doesn't have enough windows or lights to amplify its presence.

Hani finally stops, hand reaching out without looking to press at a button. The curtains unveil to reveal the hot white sun. He turns around, the usual expression of cheer eschewed by concern.

"Yuu- _chan_ ," he begins slowly, a sign of oncoming interrogation. "You know Kyo- _chan_ 's brother?"

"He's my doctor."

"You called him 'Akito'."

"I… did?"

Hani looks torn. Between what? "You must be good friends, huh?"

"I wouldn't call it that," I say. "But wait, what happened to Mori- _senpai_?"

"Oh!" Hani perks up, and begins animatedly explaining his adventures at the water park.

It's so easy for Hani to shed his edges – in a moment he's swinging his legs back and forth, perched on the edge of his seat like an excited child. I can't find it in myself to listen, but the gist of it is straightforward – the Host Club had tried out some water park belonging to the Ootori conglomerate, and somehow Mori and Haruhi got themselves into trouble with the Ootori secret police.

"So then, Takashi scraped his arm! But we didn't notice until we sent Haru- _chan_ to the station."

"I see."

"Yuu- _chan_ …" Hani says. "What are you and Akito- _san_?"

"I-" _had not expected him to be so blunt._ "I was under his care when I was young."

"You were in Kyo- _chan_ 's hospital?"

Hani seems unaware of the implications in his statement. It would be easy to dismiss it as a slip of the tongue, but it would be foolish to insist on Hani's usual countenance as an accurate reflection of his intellect. What Akito had implied earlier by gold, too, strikes me as unusual.

"I was in the Ootori's Central Hospital," I say.

Hani waits. As do I.

"Yuu- _chan_ ," Hani begins. "Akito- _san_ will probably be married by the end of the year."

"What do you mean?"

"An arranged marriage," Hani says. "As an assurance."

"An assurance?" _To whom? What for?_

Hani shakes his head. "I'm worried for you, Yuu- _chan_. Be careful."

Before I can probe further, Hani's risen from the couch and began scurrying over to Mori. The cryptic nature of his advice and the honest concern in his demeanour looms like a violet shade – a storm coming. An uneasy calm. I can't help but shudder, as the sunlight dims, the house seems to resemble the clean alcove of a hollowed bone. Hani graduates to Kyoya's side instead, and Mori falls back beside me.

I can't bear to look at Kyoya. Something like guilt flashes hot and cold against my temples when I see Ayako- _san_ bowing to us. How much...

"The tournament is tomorrow," Mori says, jolting me back to the cool crushed velvet of the seats. "Will you come?"

I blink. Kyoya is dutifully noting down something in his black book, and Hani has managed to entertain several sponge cakes. Mori's gaze does not falter; the answer is surprisingly easy.

"I will."

* * *

 **AN:** Ayy! One of the things I semi-regret is that I didn't play around with class politics here. I think it would have made for a very interesting fic - perhaps a side fic? - especially now that I've gotten into reading historical dramas like common sense of the duke's daughter (which, honestly is quite satisfying if you're interested in a strong female lead who manages to build the foundations of capitalism for a fief while navigating the social reality of dukedom). There's something to be said about Ouran, though, and I suppose its flowery setting seems to imply a lot more negotiation and plotting behind the scenes. Honestly I would not be surprised if a fic popped up regarding corruption and mafia-dom as well as assassinations and thriller-esque mysteries. / _swoons/_ Anyway, let me know what you think!


	10. one love, one house

**AN:** I'm back! And oh my gosh I can't believe there are so many comments ^_^

 _Harajuku103:_ I'm so glad you seem so enthusiastic about this story, and wow, the little things you picked out - they really make me glad! Yes! The sibling bit is from a show called The Good Doctor if my memory serves me right, and it explores a bit about siblings of child patients. But on a lighter note, yes, overcooked is one of those games you just form lasting friendships over - though not quite in Yuuka/Kaoru's case, I think. Not quite yet! Okay, now, onto addressing your comments on Akito - a little hurt because Akito was pretty much born from my own mind, but hm, yeah, there's something shady about Akito alright! If it were on a moral alignment chart, my version of Akito would probably be true neutral?

 _Momochan77:_ Ooh, yes, misunderstandings~~~ my favourite trope haha, though it's nothing too scandalous so fear not! See you in this update!

 _Keelan1210:_ I'm so glad you enjoy reading Yuuka's interactions with Akito! Yes, yes, yes, you're right - I would even argue that Akito knows Yuuka better than her mother, given that Yuuka's Number One Priority is the ensure that she Doesn't Worry Mom. I really enjoy writing those scenes where they just bicker or talk smack about each other! It's fun to see how you and Harajuku103 see those conversations differently haha

 _Patolemus:_ Ooh, Mitsukuni... I never really considered him (haha sorry!) but I think I can see a little of where you're coming from! Yes, it's quite nice to know that Yuuka and Hani have a pretty low-maintenance friendship but they know that they can trust each other instinctively, like how Yuuka and Hana are, really. Maybe this chapter will seal the deal for you? ;)

* * *

 _one love, one house_

I don't know what I expected _kendo_ tournaments to be, but this is rather different. Feet stuttering, silvered _men_ flashing, and the severe staccato strikes. It's only seven in the morning, but apparently the rounds have been running since five; I stifle a yawn, eyes roaming the halls in search of Mori, or Hani, at least. Hana isn't hold up well either – her socks are mismatched, her hair tangled at the base, and perhaps the greatest telltale is the fact that she's leaning against my shoulder, lost to the sandman.

I press a fist to my cheek, scanning the clean, white halls. There are a couple of younger boys decked out in _hakama_ wiping the floors down. Even from the spectator stands, it's hard to tell who's who. I thought it'd be easier to figure Mori or Hani out, given their heights, but…

"You two are new here, aren't you?"

I glance up, trying not to disturb Hana. The lady before me is decked out in a navy _hakama_ too, with a boyish grin on her face. She must be one of the competitors. I had no idea they were running competitions for all today.

"Was it obvious?" I smile.

The lady settles into the seat next to mine, shrugging. "Well, most people only come when it's time for Morinozuka- _sama_ 's round."

"Are you competing, then?"

"Later," she says. "My bad, I'm Kitagawa Makoto."

"Nakahara Yuuka." I glance over at Hana. "My companion here is currently asleep. Will it be alright if we send our greetings after your match?"

Makoto looks amused. "That's alright, Kobayashi- _san_ can introduce herself to me when she wakes up."

"I'll wake her up then."

"So, are you here for Kobayashi- _san_ or Haninozuka- _sama_?"

Makoto looks curious. Still, I'm not sure why but I feel a little guarded.

"Mori _-senpai_ invited me," I say.

Makoto gives me a look. It's sharp, but- dissolves into something else.

"Oh, _'_ Mori- _senpai'_?" Makoto says, and then laughs. "You must be one of his girls from the Host Club, no?"

"I suppose," I say.

Makoto looks out at the line of apprentices by the wall, rugs in their hands. "Strange, isn't it, that the host isn't here doing his job. Didn't he even inform you of his round time?

"Ah," she continues, "but even after his round, he'll have to attend the clan tea ceremony. Will you be fine by yourself here?"

"I have Hana," I say. "And I think I have you too."

Makoto smiles, wry. "I'm afraid I'll be attending the same ceremony, Yuuka- _chan_."

"No worries."

"The Kitagawa clan has always been closely entwined with the Morinozuka clan after all. I don't suppose it's a well-known fact beyond these circles." Makoto sighs, and then rises to her feet. "I believe the next match is beginning. I'll see you around, Yuuka- _chan_."

"I'll see you around."

Makoto mock-salutes, turning on her heels and leaving the stands. Beside me, the weight of Hana's head unburdens itself from my numb shoulder. She scoffs, shielding her eyes from the glaring lights.

"Kitagawa… they're not even in the third ring. Don't make me laugh; 'entwined'?!" Hana sticks her tongue out after the retreating figure. "I'm going to tell Hani about this."

"You were awake the whole time?"

Hana nods. "Someone's yammering woke me up."

"You're really not a morning person, are you?"

"…Yuuka, did you realise what she was saying?"

I shake my head. "She's just introducing herself."

" _Just_ teasing? Were we listening to the same conversation?" Hana sticks out her fingers, quoting phrases with vehemence: "'one of his girls', 'will you be fine by yourself' – like you're a child or something, 'the host isn't here' – Yuuka! Listen!"

I shush her. "The round is starting."

Hana clicks her tongue, but falls silent. The next round is between another pair of names that I do not recognise. Again, a quick glance around the hall shows nothing. No Mori, no Hani. I settle for following the two players dance around each other. It's hard to spot when a point is scored, or if a hit has landed, but I think I might be getting better at predicting who's going to win. The one in black this time seems a little faster, guiding his opponent in white.

His opponent skids to a fall, and he lands a clear tap on his opponent's head. Black presses a hand to white's head, then extends his hand, pulling him up. White nods to him. A red flag is raised, and then the two competitors start over at the centre of the ring.

"…he's holding back," Hana comments, squinting.

"Who?" I look over to see her frowning. "You know them?"

"You-" Hana begins to say, and then grins. "Oh, right, it's your first time watching, right?"

"Yeah," I say. "So it's someone we know – Mori- _senpai_?"

Hana pouts. "You're no fun. Yeah, it's him."

"I didn't hear his name announced," I say.

Hana taps her chin. "He's probably a replacement. But even if he wins, it'll just be…" she raises a lazy finger at the stuttering boy in white, "Yaneda- _kun_ 's loss."

"Yoneda- _kun_ ," I correct. "I couldn't tell it was Mori- _senpai_ at all."

"Yeah, for some reason everyone's really tall," Hana says. "It's probably because they want to be like Mori."

"I don't think you can mimic something like height."

"I think so though?"

"Perhaps it's the posture," I say. "Do you think Kitagawa- _san_ knows it's Mori- _senpai_ as well?"

"Who knows? If she's actually able to live up to her arrogance, maybe," Hana says, irritated. "To be honest, even though they're in the outer sect, it's hard to tell – especially since the Kobayashi are only new money and I don't really have an 'in' besides Hani.

"Oh! Mori won!"

I turn back to the hall. Black and white are bowing to each other now. I missed a large part of the ending, I suppose. Black spins around, lifts his head such that the silver grills of his _men_ are poised in our direction. Hana jumps up and waves vigorously. The one in white looks abashed, and looks away. Black – Mori, I suppose – nods, and then leaves with white to join the flank of competitors.

"What do you think?" Hana asks, plopping down in her seat. "He's good, isn't he?"

"He's fast?" I say. "I'm sorry, I don't know much about _kendo_."

"You've got a feel for it," Hana says. "Yeah, to anyone it just seems like black was lucky."

"He wasn't; his feet were too fast," I say. "And his arms were always under white's – guiding him."

Hana gives me a look. "See! You've got a feel for it!"

I shake my head. "Where's Hani- _senpai_?"

"He's probably waiting somewhere, like a tea room," Hana muses. "Anyway, Mori- _senpai_ has his work cut out for him now that he's won. There're going to be more replacements."

"I do," comes Mori's voice from behind us.

Hana, to her credit, doesn't even jump. I do, though, and a flush of heat rushes up my back. It's strangely intimidating, his height. Mori pulls his _men_ off without hesitation, and sits down. He pushes his _tenugui_ out of his eyes, and fixes me with a smile.

"You came," he says.

"I did." I nod. "I said I would."

"And _I,_ " Hana begins to say, "am going to go wash up."

"Hana-"

Hana winks, jumping out of her seat and speeding off towards the exit. I sigh, suddenly unsure where I should put my hands. Mori presses a towel to his neck, the bob of his Adam's apple inspiring the strangest twinge in my chest.

"Are you sure you should be without that?" I ask, angling my chin towards the _men_ , now resting on his lap.

Mori nods. And strangely, he's right; no one has come up to us for his autograph or even a speck of his time. Perhaps the fact that Hani isn't around yet saves Mori from being identified from the mass of equally tall competitors.

"How did you find it?"

"I'm surprised that such competitions run from even before dawn," I say. "Hana said you were going off easy on Yoneda- _kun_."

"I wasn't," Mori says. "I only replaced his original opponent."

"You'll have to keep replacing him," I say. "What if you wound up against yourself?"

Mori doesn't hide his smile. "What if."

There it is again. I swallow it down, and focus on the upcoming match instead. Another pair saunters up to the centre, feet planted too firmly on the ground. But they're young and determined, and that may be enough for a close draw. From my peripheral, Mori begins tapping his foot against the floor.

"You're restless," I comment.

Mori pauses, and the tapping lets up. "Sorry."

"Are you worried about the competition?"

Mori considers it carefully, and then says, "I should be."

"Kitagawa- _san_ told me about a tea ceremony later," I muse, "it sounded important."

Surprise, or some derivative of uncertainty, colours his face, but it's drained away when he turns to face me fully. "The tea ceremony happens after every major event. The House Elders discuss… things."

"That sounds… more important than you're letting on," I note.

Mori shifts his gaze back to the concluding match. "Katsuki there is planning on asking for Fuwa- _san_ 's hand in marriage then."

"Should you be telling me that?"

He shrugs, the action so slight I'm not even sure if I've misread him. "He announced it at the last tea ceremony."

The tea ceremony that I was not privy to. "Katsuki- _san_ … that's the one in white?"

"No, he's the one in black."

I frown. "He's not going to win."

Mori shakes his head. "If he makes it a draw against Hino, he'll be on par with them."

"Hierarchies. This surely puts trial by combat into perspective, huh." I chuckle at the later dad joke that pops into my mind: "You fight for what you want, quite literally."

What Hana said earlier about sects and rings and having an 'in' – I would be even more surprised if there was no hierarchy within these 'Houses'. It's one thing to know _of_ such occurrences and traditions; it's certainly another to live them. I look over at Mori, and down at where Katsuki is aggressively striking forth.

"Does the violence…?" Mori hesitates, but I can fill in the gaps easily.

"No," I say, and I'm surprised at how much I mean it. "It's straightforward, I think. It's more – more, honest. This. In some way, I can understand."

Mori nods. "A gentleman's fight."

"A gentleman's fight," I agree. "Pride."

"Pride, yes, and determination," Mori adds. "Resolution."

The match concludes swiftly, as a tie. Mori looks almost relieved, tilting his head and glancing at me with lidded eyes. Blinking slowly, he holds my gaze, guiding it towards some soft, heady sigh.

"Katsuki put up a good fight," Mori says carefully. "I should prepare for mine."

I offer a smile, suddenly ready to offer even more – he looks so- he looks like the lambent tongues of a Christmas fire. I am wary, I know, but he looks so much like solace for frostbitten fingers. Mori rises, _men_ in hand.

"What about yours," the words tumble from my shipwrecked lips. _What will you fight for?_

A fire is many things. It is solace, tool, or some instinctual curiosity well-honed in evolution; it is the gift the gods have guarded jealously. But look how easy it burns on within us foolish mortals. Look how greedily it thrives on even the tiniest of hints.

"Watch me," Mori promises.

Most of all, fire is _hot_.

* * *

Hana grabs me a packet of milk from the vending machine, happily recounting how Mori had obliterated his opponents. I lean my back against the wall, nodding as her chatter swims amidst other lower timbres.

"…did you see… he was… stand a chance…" Hana's words barely make sense, but if anything, the disorientingly frantic movement of her arms conveys her enthusiasm effectively.

I nod, watching the way the overhead lights bloom and flicker unwittingly, like goldfishes coming in and out of form. The static of murmurs and excitement whittle down to a fine net all around us. And then Hana falls silent. She frowns, eyes trained on something in front of us. It's Makoto, and the waves of navy and black part for her. The sizzle dies down a little, and everywhere trained eyes are pecking at fodder for more gossip.

"Hana- _chan_ -" at this, Hana blanches positively. "- and Yuuka- _chan_ , I'm glad I didn't miss you."

"What do you need us for, Kitagawa," Hana says, drawing a splash of whispers from the crowd.

"Congratulations, Kitagawa- _san_ ," I say quickly, stepping forward and shielding Hana from the onslaught of glares. "Your form was splendid."

"Oh, you were watching?" Makoto says. "I'm glad that you, too, could appreciate that little bit of entertainment."

She chuckles, more to herself, but that cheer is distinctly different from the simmering spite behind me. I smile, cheeks stiff.

"Well," Makoto continues, "I suppose now that the competition is over, I shouldn't keep you."

"Oh no," Hana's sardonic lithe carries, despite her lowered voice. " _We_ shouldn't keep you from your gathering."

Makoto blinks, and matches Hana's pettiness with equal, if not more, spite. "A ceremony, Hana- _chan_ , though you certainly don't seem to be used to them."

"No, I'm more used to calling things what they are," Hana grins, baring fangs. "And honestly, right now it's sounding a lot like gossip town."

"Hana- _chan_!" Hani cuts in, pouncing on Hana without warning, latching onto her arm. "Here you are!"

"Hani!" Hana cheers, "I thought you'd be gone by now."

Hani shakes his head, nuzzling up against Hana's cheek. "No~pe! It's going to start soon though."

"Haninozuka- _sama_ ," Makoto's voice cuts in, and she bows. "It's good to see you well."

"But I'm not sick?" Hani inquires cutely, and then turns to me. "Yuu- _chan_ , too, here you are!"

"Hello, _senpai_ ," I say, careful as I bow my head.

"Well, let's go then! Takashi got some cake for us~" Hani exclaims, tugging on Hana's wrist and my sleeve.

"Yuuka- _chan_ ," Makoto says, halting us. "Our tea ceremony is starting soon; don't let us hold you back."

Hana laughs, and bites back, "I shan't stand on ceremony then!"

Before more damage can be done, Hani tugs us away, blathering sweet nothings and careless whispers all along the way. One of the doors in the arena leads to a longer hallway, and then out into a sheltered one. The scenery translates into something more traditional; soothing waterways and stranded pavilions, lilies dotting the surface of a pebbled sink.

"I don't like her," Hana declares, just as Hani takes a break from projecting his adorable nature.

Hani slows down. "I know."

"Hani, you should have heard how she spoke to Yuuka-"

"But," Hani interrupts, "the Kitagawa House has gained a lot since we last saw them."

Hana scoffs. "You mean that deal with the Chens, that's nothing. The Chinese market, unless fully dominated, will always be a foreign risk."

"Not just them, Hana," he worries his lower lip. "There are other bigger players."

He schools his face into something more innocent. "But Yuu- _chan,_ if she bullies you again, let me know."

"I'll let you know if I need any help," I say.

"You're one of us," Hani stresses. "You're my friend, and Takashi's."

The path diverges. Hani leads us on to the right, where a tiny traditional hut is. He pushes the rice-paper sliding door aside, revealing Mori. Mori's exhaustion is adamant on his face, but he sharpens anyway, focus aimed on Hani.

"We don't have much time," Mori says, almost accusatory.

"I couldn't have let you out there, Takashi, you're too kind," Hani shrugs. "Besides, we can send Yuu- _chan_ and Hana- _chan_ home later, right? It's just Katsuki for today. Hana- _chan_ and Yuu- _chan_ can rest here for the time being!"

"Mitsukuni."

Hani turns his puppy-eyed disbelief towards us. "Won't Yuu- _chan_ and Hana- _chan_ eat cake? Oh! Oh! I got _mochi_ for Yuu- _chan!_ "

I should have built up some form of immunity towards Hani's incredulously persuasive looks, but right now I _do_ have questions to ask Hana about. Besides, I had nothing else planned for the day. Hana shoots me a look, and I understand that she's letting me make the call.

"Alright," I say. "I'll wait."

"I'll wait too!" Hana pipes up.

Mori's gaze wanders to mine. Finally, he nods. "I'll send you home."

"Okay."

"Mitsukuni," Mori looks to Hani, and the weight on my throat is lifted. "Let's go."

When they've left, Hana pulls me over to the tea table. She presses a hand to my forehead, frowning, but pulls her palm away briefly. A flicker of something whizzes past her eyes, and then it settles into a more tangible annoyance.

"I can't believe it," Hana starts. "Kitagawa's even more insufferable than I remember."

"How did you meet her?"

"Kitagawa," she seethes, "threw a hissy fit when Hani and Mori helped me out in school. But she was graduating, thank the lord, and so nothing big came out of it."

She's abbreviating, I can tell, so I don't ask about that. "She was jealous?"

"Yeah," Hana pauses, "well, maybe it was 'propriety' – they have a lot of pride, you know, those Houses and those old people; I'm sure it made her skin crawl to think that some new-money spoilt goods could come in and steal her thunder."

"You were talking about the rings and Hani- _senpai_ as an –"

"An 'in', yeah." Her fingers pace up and down the edge of the table. "He's very kind, you know, but he's smart. I know roughly how all the Houses works, which Elders to avoid… things like that."

She chuckles, leaning over to rearrange the desserts on the platter. "Five rings, and at the core –" she pokes at a fragile mocha, "– is Hani's family. And Mori's, too. And then, everyone else is outside."

I pass her a decorative leaf. "How many Houses are there?"

"A lot," Hana says. "Like, hundreds of clans."

She snickers, placing the golden leaf down at the edge of the platter. Thoughtfully, she remarks, "Well, it's insane, really – even Kyoya- _san_ 's secret police can't stand a chance against those in the fifth ring."

"Kyoya- _san_ has a secret police?" I repeat.

Hana gives me a look, and then, laughs, "Yeah, the Ootori police. Auxiliary. But perhaps more lethal than so. Fits, doesn't it? I think it's how Kyoya- _san_ knows everything."

There's a lot to unpack there, but I shake my head. "Perhaps, but I have a feeling Kyoya- _san_ doesn't like to be in anyone's debt."

"Nah," Hana says, waving the leaf, "he's exactly the type to make use of those below him. All rich families are like that – strip down all the talk about honour or pride and in the end it's the bare bones. The fangs."

"Hana…"

She sighs, and then replaces the different pastries. A cream puff right next to a mochi, and tiny flowers lined up to the side. "Sorry. This place makes me uneasy."

"…Mori- _senpai_ and Hani- _senpai_ are different, though?" I offer, uncertain.

( _Pride, yes, and determination. Resolution.)_

Hana tries to grin. "Yeah. Mori is, isn't he?"

"You look worried."

"I – I don't want you to get hurt, Yuuka." She hesitates, and then says, "Do you remember… that time when the ladder fell?"

It was… was it when Renge-?

Hana continues, solemn, "I've been looking into it."

"That sounds," I pause, picking out my words, "dangerous."

She stiffens, a wry smile on her face. And then she straightens up, reaching over for a cup and the tea pot. Her hands are hardly shaking, but the cup lands with a little more force before me. Hana reaches for another cup and pours herself tea.

"Do you know why, even though I'm spoiled goods, even though I'm from new money," she swallows, thick, "even though I'm in love with a girl, I can get so close to Hani without any repercussions?

"It's the Kobayashi name." Hana takes a sip of her tea, looking unnaturally docile. Like a doll. "We have connections even in Russia. An opportunity. A wild card."

"Not yet a threat, but not to be overlooked either," I summarise.

She sets her cup down. "All because of a name; did you know that those who marry into a clan, keep their family names? They think it's a snub, to carry your shame as an outsider, but it's my biggest relief.

"The Kobayashi name makes people think twice, and that's all I need to survive," Hana continues, needling down to the sharpest glint. "The question is, how much is the Nakahara name worth?"

"Enough," I soften, take Hana's cold, trembling hands in mine. "Enough to make you worry."

Hana nods, the chill in her gaze melting into stray tears. "So much for a name."

"I think 'Hana' is a beautiful name."

She blinks, and chuckles, pawing at her tear-stained cheeks. "Yuuka. What am I going to do with you?"

"We're going to drink tea, and you're going to stop overthinking."

* * *

Mori walks me out to a sheltered roundabout. It's already dark out, but he's keeping pace easily. I have my hand on his sleeve, a light hold. The glimmer of his sleeve catches my eye, a simple stray thread that keeps me on edge. I swallow, ignore the whistling wind as it gasps against my cheek, and press on.

"Hana was worried."

"Mm."

"Your ceremony took longer than expected," I say.

Mori slows down, glances over. I avert my gaze immediately.

"Sorry," he says, earnest.

I shake my head. "No, I wasn't – did something happen?"

"Katsuki and Fuwa- _san_ are tying the knot next Autumn."

"That's good to hear," I say. "Fuwa- _san_ 's going to keep her name?"

He gives me a quizzical look. "Yes."

"Oh. I mean, Katsuki- _san_." That's right, Katsuki was fighting to be on par with someone. "Katsuki- _san_ will be keeping his name."

"No, he'll be taking the Fuwa name." He pauses. "Mamoru."

"… Mamoru?"

Mori nods. "Katsuki Mamoru. His name."

I fall silent then, helpless to the vague stirrings in my chest. It's suddenly so hard to breathe; his heat, barely, passes through the tips of my fingers as we shuffle clumsily. For a moment I think I hear him whisper my name, but his gaze is steadfast and straightforward, busy charting the path before us.

* * *

 **AN:** I gotta say, one of my favourite lines I've written is in this chapter ("A fire is many things. It is solace, tool, or some instinctual curiosity well-honed in evolution; it is the gift the gods have guarded jealously. But look how easy it burns on within us foolish mortals. Look how greedily it thrives on even the tiniest of hints.") Let me know what yours is!


	11. intermission: will you come in after me?

AN: It's been a really long while, and while I have a draft of the next chapter, I wanted to do a quick intermission! So here's Hana's perspective - and at this point I would preface it by saying that Hana is a character I'd love to explore more, but at the same time, with every OHSHC fic, I always feel like I need to talk about all of the Hosts in equal measure. But that would conflict with my interest in exploring/explaining Hana, so if that makes sense -!

 _Keelan1210:_ Yes! I do find it very intriguing - Ouran can't just be a playground for the rich, there's got to be some real tension going on, and I've always thought that would be really fun to read. But honestly, without any real research done, I can only cover this much before it starts sounding cheesy or floaty. Oh, I really like that too - the camera in my mind always turns from Hana's sharp, wilting words, to the strain in her jaw when she tries not to cry - at that line.

 _Momochan77:_ Thank you so much! I did wonder if it was too much to attribute too much meaning to those lines, but eh.

 _Harajuku103:_ I think Hana has quite a bit to worry about, and yep, it's definitely a stark sort of contrast? to her usual self. But maybe this chapter will provide a bit more context! It's placed in some indistinct time before chapter one of this fic - and here is where the wheels begin turning for Hana.

 _nehmeh:_ Thank you! I'm still figuring out how to configure Yuuka in all of this, but I really like the idea of having a character who is extremely thoughtful, almost to the point of inaction.

* * *

 _will you come in after me?_

* * *

Hana is a brilliant child; she always has been – like a star, the kind you'd reach out, imagine yourself plucking off midnight silk, hold it warm and small in your palms. Little ambitions you allow yourself to indulge in. Blooms incredibly, resiliently, eternally. So soft, fragile in her own bewildering ways. It certainly helps that the Kobayashi family has singlehandedly built an empire on dreams – in the vastest of terms: daydreams to nightmares, wishes to schemes.

Inspirations. Aspirations. Motivations.

Kobayashi Hana. A flower of small forests. In a world where a name is measure of your worth, Hana herself doesn't stand out too much (already in her level there are at least two other 'Hana's). But do not be deceived; Hana is nothing but discerning. She knows to pick out the trees from the forests, knows to always watch after the smallest trails, knows to unroot even the tallest of orders. For the forests are not simply made of trees. They are bursting with life at the seams, threatening to overflow with lushness.

It's all connected.

She sees Tamaki and recognises the same sparkling draw he has on people. He's amassed himself not only a cult of fangirls, but an insanely valuable resource of _connections_. And their weekly games in Music Room Three is testament to how simple Tamaki's operation is – what he wants, he gets. All because he is what so many people want, but only so few can truly have.

It's why she loves watching him – he's exquisite. He's champion of the ladies' romantic whims and ideals, and even if he'll never truly have the bluest of bloods, he will ultimately take over the Suoh empire. Call him King, he says; Hana does – unabashedly, because he _is_ the Champion they've idolised so wistfully over in their fairy tales. His heart, pure and sound, sings theatrics that look so noble and normal all the same. This is no mean feat. He's transformed the host club from a fleeing merry-go-round into an entire circus. Foolish, but hardly a mistake.

The acts are what they are, as is the bliss.

And even Kyoya, silent and cool, maps an uncharted spotlight wherever he goes. He appears like he's always playing second fiddle to Tamaki, but anyone with a modicum of sense can tell that he's a protagonist in his own right. Just, not in the same genre, perhaps.

Hana knows to fear him instinctively, knows that there will always be a gulf between them two. The first time they met, it was after Hani had introduced her to the club. He'd smiled, she smiled, and then they kept any conversation to the minimum. It's not because Hana isn't ambitious or cunning like Kyoya; she has to be. It's only a different game they're playing – Hana deals with a ruthlessly childish hand and a powdered grin; Kyoya has a steady fold and an enduring wait. They know to cut their losses, have watched the demise of those who dwelled a second too long. This much is only second nature to those who understand the playing field in Ouran.

And that is why Hana fears him. Kyoya is ambition, polished to _cut_. Hana is desire, driven by the pride her family installs in her. There is no one else in the Host Club – in _Ouran,_ even – that she would hesitate to be involved with. Kitagawa, or even the other clans that sneer at her charity, are pieces she can fiddle with. Pieces she knows she can tame or incite at will. They are dangerous, yes, _risky_. But Kyoya is a certainty she cannot afford to invoke.

It's not the same kind of fear she has for Hani. Hana knows that her senior is perhaps on par, or even more terrifying than Kyoya (the bloodlines are something she's struggling to keep up with). But Hani has known her, and helped her, and taken her under his wing when she could barely breathe. This mentorship, this dependence, Hana knows, is perhaps rationally more dangerous than the piercing mystery the Ootoris represent. But maybe it's her loyalty that has sworn her to fondness.

Even if she may never unmask the truth behind Haninozuka Mitsukuni, this much is enough. She's been fortunate enough to sneak a peek at the undergrowth of the clans, as well as share in his thorough enjoyment of the Host Club.

 _Hana-chan,_ he intones sweetly, like he might do so for 'Takashi' or 'Kao- _chan_ ', _eat._

Kao- _chan_ – because everyone except Tamaki saw through the twins within a month. And Hana has the precious, precious duty of keeping this secret. She knows what it means, to hold something like a plug in her stained, shaky hands. She's been generously acknowledged by them.

Not acceptance. Possibly never, that.

She can't tell them apart. It's a haze. Even when they turn up to her father's studios and offices (impeccable and _smart),_ even when they exchange pleasantries and Hana puts on her best hostess act. They're always acting. She'd told Hani this once, and he'd given her a simple smile and pushed his slice of cake to her. Hana followed the script from there, except the character list has been scratched out.

So Hana holds back, laughs loudly and plays the role of the sole heiress to a corporation just as loud and cheerful as she has to be. And it's alright, to be on the side-lines, watching this tangled, _shining_ mess weave its way into something like greatness, or perhaps on a push-cart to hell. But she's hoping it'll be the former. She can taste bitter, tart victory already in her visions – they are forever, _young_.

They will become something great, Hana thinks (proudly). Perhaps this is her biggest flaw.

Even though she hates it, Sora accompanies her in her scrutiny.

Sora, who is her pillar. Sora, who is soft and pliable and firm all at once. Sora, who is forgiving but never forgets. Sora, who tucks her hair behind her ears and deadpans. Sora, who is also struggling under the weight of her title. Her name, clear and unbidden, stretches out into a wild hopefulness that Hana can only stare up at, hopelessly.

Star-struck.

God forbid Sora smiles at her, coy. No, _this_ is her biggest flaw.

(Sora is a Mitsuha. Sora is a second daughter. Sora doesn't want to inherit. Sora looks at her when she thinks Hana's looking elsewhere – which is true, because Hana is always looking out and watching – but Hana can feel it, or so she thinks.)

Her first year at Ouran passes, unaccounted and blissful.

And then Fujioka Haruhi comes.

And then Nakahara Yuuka comes.

Hana is a brilliant child, and she knows which wars are better waged. It's easy to see the finer things – stones turned and so on – and she chases after them eagerly. Nakahara Yuuka is unassuming and plain. Haruhi had been, too. But she was catalyst to something, and now the Host Club has a sizeable dimension.

Nakahara Yuuka. An elegant blossom in the centre of an unending field. She sits down at the desk beside Hana's. How similar they might be.

(Like a star, shrouded in darkness.)


	12. no shirt, no blouse

**AN:** Oof, another update! I'm actually considering either (a) rewriting this, or (b) doing a side piece involving the other characters and focusing more substantially on the business/corporate aspect of things. To my mind, this story has kind of outlived its original plot, so I'm wondering how I can make it tighter... eh well. Anyway, I'm sure I'll be able to fit the same subplot I wanted here.

 _Keelan1210:_ YES exactly! I've always thought that - even if Hani may just be a quirky character, he's also a senior that the others rely on. Haha, I don't think Hana is _as_ terrifying - she's a lot more idealistic and dreamy, that she'd lose sight of the smaller details for the bigger picture at times. I like to describe her vision as a bokeh effect.

 _Momochan77:_ Thank you!

 _Harajuku103:_ Mm, I do agree. I think that the twins are at the very core of it - honestly, still trying to figure out the ~family~ dynamic that Kaoru painted in the anime. I think Yuuka's interference here is shaping things in a way that makes it impossible to ignore the fact that they _are_ opening up their world, and that their world doesn't have to be artificially constructed in a way that mandates one magical solution. Still, I think Haruhi is a more defining character because she told them apart because she saw them as distinct. Yuuka is still thinking of them as a unit (using her memory), but slowly parsing them apart (identifying that they're cautious because of different reasons).

* * *

 _no shirt, no blouse_

* * *

I would be lying if I didn't say that some part of me stirred – heavy and reckless – after the tournament; especially with the summer sun beating down on us all, warm tremors rising along bobbing legs and wrinkled dress-shirts, cuffed sleeves rolling up to the elbows. In a tense room fitted with a miserable air conditioner, it was without surprise that Kaoru pulled me aside to discuss the possibility of a beach outing.

"Haruhi doesn't have a passport," Kaoru says, eyes flitting back to where Haruhi is cautiously guarding her possessions this time around. "That's why, we're planning on going to a private beach in Okinawa."

"I see," I nod. "Are you planning on having the other ladies test out your mother's new line?"

Kaoru grins. "Nothing escapes you, Yuuka- _senpai_."

"Alright, but why tell me this?"

Hikaru appears beside him, hand scratching Kaoru's ear thoughtlessly. "You're part of the design team."

I blink. Behind them, Mori's tall figure is bending over, warm hands wiping cream off Hani's cheeks as the girls squeal and titter. He blinks, a cool black gaze – interrupted as Haruhi is dragged past by a very enthused Tamaki. Someone hems, and another coughs politely into their fist with restrained joy. Kyoya tuts, and then turns his attention to us. Indiscreet; impatient.

"Ah. The recycled accessories."

"Bingo!" Hikaru cheers lazily.

"…how about a trade?" I ask. "Besides the marketing, which I'm sure the both of you are more than capable of, I think it'd be a good opportunity to raise something – for the next collection, or in general. How many are you inviting to this beach?"

"A hundred and fifty," Kaoru's brow raises, as does Hikaru's.

"So you're able to supply those accessories by this weekend?"

"Ten," I say, lowering my voice. "If you're only bringing a sixth of your patrons, I think exclusivity is something we can all agree on for the time being."

Kaoru whistles. "Wow, Yuuka- _senpai_. You drive a hard bargain. Thirty."

"Pot, kettle," I laugh. "What would happen if I didn't agree to this plan?"

"Why wouldn't you?" Hikaru challenges, jutting his chin out.

I shrug. "You want free-trade, recycled, _quality_ products by the end of this week. You want exclusivity. You also want a soft launch."

"It won't just benefit us," Hikaru says.

"Yeah, you'd also be getting more materials for free," Kaoru drawls, tilting his head.

"You're right; _we_ want exclusivity and quality products – in time," I say. "So why thirty? Why make this something one in every five girls is able to wear?"

"Ten is too little to garner any attention."

"We'll pay more."

I hold my hand up. "Money isn't our concern here."

"Twenty," Kaoru says.

"Ten."

"Yuuka- _senpai_ , that's already really low."

I shake my head at Hikaru. "That's already a lot on our hands."

"What would it take for you to get to twenty?"

"What do you have to offer?"

Hikaru and Kaoru exchange looks.

"How about this: a partnership with the Host Club?" Kyoya suggests, finally bearing his fangs. "A commitment to reduce waste, and an ally to propose any sustainable changes to the school management."

That is quite a lot to capitalise on. I turn to him. "What's in it for you?"

"An investment," Kyoya says simply.

"I hope you're not looking at it as a trend."

"No, hardly." He smiles. "A trend is accidental."

"…fifteen," I say.

Kyoya's book snaps shut, satisfied.

* * *

"You're really enamoured by that Ootori guy, aren't you?" Mom sighs, a twinkle in her eye.

I shrug. "I couldn't resist."

Mom nods, and then smiles. "Well, in any case, that drive you secured will also go a long way in the years ahead."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I know you're busy with the fair-"

"Don't say that," Mom hastens, leaning forward. "I'm proud of you."

I pinch the bridge of my nose. The floor swirls under me yet again. Mom puts on her reading glasses, and continues to go through some files. A wave of nostalgia or something equally bitter hits, and bile is accusing against the back of my throat. Mom looks up at the gagging sound, brows furrowed in familiar concern. I bite my cheek, and swallow as hard as I can.

"Yuu, are you okay?"

I nod, and the sudden lurch in my stomach jolts me back. I clamber out and rush into my bathroom. The sink is cool under my grip. Hard. Fragile. The rest of my throat and tongue is hot, singed. I heave again, breath too hot and angry.

It's not pretty. The guck is everywhere, webbed across my shake fingers. The rotting, repulsed shame of dinner washes past me in waves. The odour. The prickly burn. And now, Mom's cautious footsteps.

"Yuu?" And then. "Yuu, are you okay?"

I swallow again, dry and unfortunate. And reach over for the tap. The cold relief of water does nothing to soothe the chills in my hands. But it did feel better to be cleaner. I scrub at my chin with one hand, the other perched on the side of the sink. Mush clings between my fingers. I jab at them jerkily, scraping them off and away.

"Yuu. Yuu!"

"Mom," I struggle to say, watching the mirror blur in front of me. "'m okay."

"Yuu, you were throwing up – we need to get you to a –"

"No," I say, pushing air out with great effort – the hollow of my chest is burning. "Not tonight."

"Yuuka!" Mom shrieks, a piercing decibel, pulling my elbow.

"I just- my head hurts, it's all," I say, fumbling with my worthless hands. " _Please_."

"Yuuka. We're going to the hospital now." Mom, shaking, pulls me out of the bathroom. "We need to check if you're okay."

"It- dinner was bad, that's all."

"Don't lie," Mom's voice is harsh, gripping – her nails dig into my arm.

I shake my head, and feel the same acrid pain lurch – blurs green and yellow and blares red behind my ears. "I'm not. Please."

"Don't be _difficult,_ Yuuka," Mom says.

The heat surges. Up. "Difficult?"

"Yuuka, we're," Mom's grabbing her keys off the table, sandwiching it under her armpit and pulling a phone to her ear. "We're going now."

"I know difficult." The fury bleeds a sudden burst of strength up my arm, and I tear it away from her. "I've been – _I deal with this_. I hurt. I shake. I know my body."

"Yuu-"

" _I know my body_ ," I stress, voice raised to fit this shallow shell of a house. "It's mine. Not yours. You will never know its pain. You will never know how it feels to _wait_."

"I'm your mother!" And, then, softer, into the phone, "Hello, yes. It's an emergency-"

"This is nothing."

"-please get here. We need to send Yuuka to the hospital."

"…You're afraid."

"What?"

"You've always been afraid."

Her hand, a claw, reaches over to my arm again. "Now - is _not_ the time."

"That's why you never visited me in the hospital," I realise. "You were scared."

"I did," she desists. "I went when I could –"

"When I was getting discharged. Always – when I was. And now you're going to send me back." A cold shudder runs down my already sweating back.

The claw closes around my hand again, unroots me from the shade of the doorway.

"I was busy," she tries again desperately. "You've never complained."

Virtue is a blessing and a curse; an excess of something can never do any good. My patience simmered into exhaustion before I knew it; her easygoing charms wilted into apathy. I let her drag me down to the foyer, feet heavy and heart even more so. I'm tired.

"I saw a girl die," I say, breaking the suffocating silence. "Code pink."

"What are you talking about?"

"Heart issues."

"Yuuka, what are you talking about?"

My eyes meet hers – wavering, and then resolute. "I don't know."

(I'm so tired.)

* * *

It's not Akito this time. She's far kinder and more direct. Questions about my nausea and headaches remain simple and perfunctory under Mom's worrying stare – only when I'm carted off for a scan do they evolve. How long has this been going for? What's the colour of your vomit? How many times a day do you throw up? Do you eat? How much? How long do the headaches last? Did you fall anywhere? Where does the hurt come from – the front of the head? The back?

I answer all of them. She purses her lips, and then asks:

"The number listed in your file, that's yours?"

* * *

The rest of the week sweeps by; I spend more time with Kazuha, ironing out the details of our accessories. From time to time Hikaru would drop by with a folder, or a leaflet, and a very professional critique. But other than that, I was almost always cooped up in the basement, Sana handing me tea or a cold compress at times. Chauffer Yin returns me two bento boxes – both finished to the very last grain – so there's that, at least.

The Host Club is entirely transformed on Friday evening; the room is entirely populated with mannequins, frills and too many shimmery elastics. I dodge out of the way as someone carries one of the dolls out, and bump into another tall, wooden model –

"You're here," Mori says.

I pull away from his warm grasp. "Hello, Mori- _senpai_."

He nods, eyes blinking lazily. I snap out of it, my gaze trailing down past his hooded lids and bobbing adam's apple – in his hands, juxtaposed against his stoic fingers, a red lacy bra. A bikini top. I cough, arms awkwardly gangly against my sides.

"Yuu- _chan_!" Hani squeals, hanging off a mannequin with a green sequined bikini. "Yuu- _chan_ , you're here!"

I smile. "Are you choosing a bikini for the customers?"

Hani tilts his head, and grins. "No~pe! It's for Haru- _chan_ of course!"

"Let me take that," Mori offers, and I let him take over the carton of accessories we managed to gather in time.

"Isn't Haruhi going to be hosting?" I ask. "Be careful; there are some glass pieces in there."

"Yes I am," Haruhi, long-suffering and nonchalant, says. "Yuuka- _senpai_ , don't mind them. Mori- _senpai_ , Hikaru and Kaoru are by the counter there."

As Mori leaves, Hani slides down the mannequin and hops over. He presses a sly piece of fabric into my hands. The material is incredibly light, as though it might just drift out of my hands and into the stream of time. It takes a while for me to figure out that the periwrinkle shape in my hands is a swimsuit, halter-neck and cut-outs and all.

"Won't this be good for you, Yuu- _chan_?" Hani chimes.

I hold it out in front of me. "There are holes in this."

"Yeah, did something get to it?" Haruhi asks, and for a moment I can't tell if she's playing along or simply being pragmatic. "Won't it be uncomfortable?"

Hani huffs. "They're cut-outs! Hika- _chan_ said that they're suuuuuuper fashionable!"

I laugh. "I know what they are, I was just teasing. But thank you, Hani- _senpai_."

"So you'll wear it?"

"I don't think so; I still have to help oversee the fitting process since none of the Hosts can."

"Eh, we could ask one of the maids for help though?"

I shake my head. "We're already depending on Sana- _san_ from the Hitachiin household. Besides, it would be more sincere to have a designer on the scene in case anything goes wrong."

Hani frowns, bowing his head and fidgeting. "But…"

I smile, and turn to Haruhi instead, knowing full well that Hani is up to something with his usual tricks. It would be best to not oblige him this once; the image of Mori's callused hands tracing the pad of the saucy red bikini top is seared unfortunately into my head. I don't really want to consider exactly what it means when my chest seems to sizzle and shake.

"Haruhi, can you bring me to Kaoru- _kun_?"

* * *

The sun beats down, merciless in its cheer; rays flitting past the shade of a multi-coloured umbrella. Haruhi straightens the corner of the mat, gesturing for me to take a seat. I heed her instruction, and settle down onto the uneven, scratchy surface. A couple of girls teeter cautiously around us, but are charmed away by Haruhi's words. It's hard to keep up with this flirtatious atmosphere, made more blatant by the calculated baring of skin and sun-kissed lotions.

"Are you good with the sun, _senpai_?" Haruhi asks, arms hanging around her knees.

"I've always wanted to come to the beach," I say. "Why do you ask?"

Haruhi shrugs. "Just checking."

I push my hair out of my face, and then heave it all up into a ponytail. There. "I guess I do look quite pale."

"It'll be cooler near the water," Haruhi muses. "Did you bring a swimsuit?"

I let my eyes follow the span of the beach, past the line of girls and Tamaki perched on a rock. The unmistakeable duo appear to be running in slow motion, hands splayed out for the other in an awful mimicry of longing. Mori, on the other hand, and Hani, are following some radio's exercise routine. Hana is keeping up with their childish and absurd movements without missing a beat. I hide a smile.

"No," I say, tugging at the collar of my shirt. "I don't have one; we won't look out of place if we're together."

Haruhi grimaces. "Yeah... it'll just be a hassle trying to convince everyone I'm not getting into the water."

We sit in silence for a moment longer, tasting the salt in the air, toes curled up against the warm sand. It's so easy to rest and watch from afar, listen to the well-chimed giggles and the lapping of the waves. Bleached white, the entire thing seems like a memory, or some film on loop, grainy and predictable.

 _Kyoya turns around the corner… the look on his face cold, wondering,(that's his notebook, covered in glitter, Haruhi said they got her pen back) says – "…are you -"_

 _\- a wretched face, furrowed brows, Aoi looks like… not breathing, until the Lobelia girls strut away…he sighs, shirt buttoned all the way up, shares a Look with_

 _Hana, without Sora, at the table with Tanaka, eggs on her plate, chirping about – fork scraping against porcelain. She's careless, laughing without laughing, "your ears are red, Hajime!"_

 _eggs on the plate, cold. Mom left early again._

 _Hirose-sensei makes an offhanded comment. He's serious though. No one's smiles have been reaching their eyes. Did I sit next to… Umehito? I must have. He told me about the Black Magic Club again. I don't think I agreed to visit again. I need to check. Hirose-sensei called me out twice in class, "Nakahara-_

"- _senpai_?"

I look up. "Ah, sorry, I was caught up thinking."

Haruhi frowns. "What was it? You looked troubled."

I shrug, the shallow cusp of my palm reaching out and grazing over sand. Dry. Soft. Grounding. A breath in, then out, and then the rest of the world is trickling back in. The waves in gentle relapse, salty and shimmering.

"I haven't seen Sora- _senpai_ for a while," Haruhi says finally, tearing her eyes from me. "She was always with Hana- _senpai_."

"Mm," I say.

But Hana looks the same, unfrazzled and full of cheer. They're now moving onto a more complicated routine involving several in-air splits and unfortunate fist-bumping. Haruhi is giving me a look again.

"Hey, _senpai_ , I'll get you a drink," Haruhi says.

"Oh, thanks," I say, mustering up a smile.

Haruhi dips her head, and then gets up. Without much thought, I shut my eyes and burrow my chin against the top of my knees. For some reason, I'm feeling even more tired today. Sometimes I feel like running away from the rest of the world and hiding in a closet; it's not as though I'd rather be stuck in a hospital again – I know what it's like to be isolated, but that's a whole different matter. Even though I was isolated, there were regular checks and inspections. And it was clear that I wasn't free to move about. Restricted.

I should enjoy the beach. I blink my eyes open. Was the sun always this dark?

"Nakahara." Kitagawa's eclipsing the sun.

Right, she was one of the fifteen who managed to get the special edition of the slow-launch. In short, jerky motions, she pulls something out and shoves it towards me.

"It broke."

I lean in, as she pulls away, and steps back into a disinterested pose. I pull myself up, blinking away the sun-blindness. Kitagawa's fist is wrapped around a beautiful glass bead. She's got a sweet pink halter-neck on and a white cover-up with fringes. A string of glass beads. Figure twelve – the bracelet.

"What happened?" I ask, holding my hand out.

Kitagawa doesn't answer, dropping a cord and two beads into my grainy palm. There should have been a charm in this bracelet too; I spent a night stringing these together with Mai.

"Where did this break?"

"I don't know," she snaps. " _You_ tell me."

"Kitagawa- _san_ ," I begin to say, but she stops me.

"I expect this fully fixed before the day ends," she says coolly, plucking off the straw-hat Sato had stitched painstakingly too. "Or if you'd rather, this could just be a regular Hitachiin collection."

The straw-hat ends up in my arms too as Kitagawa struts away towards the sea. A scatter of squeals pulls me out of my reverie; to the left, Haruhi is picking something up gently from the sand. I shake my head and begin examining the broken bracelet in my hand. Two beads. If it's from the twelfth design, there should be eight more beads and a leaf-shaped charm. The cord looks about the right length, too.

"It would help to know where this broke," I murmur to myself.

Well, that's a mystery to solve. If Kitagawa had come to look for me immediately after breaking this (and I do think she did; the beads and cord were still with her) then she couldn't have been too far away from here. Plus, the fact that she still had some parts of it means that some of the beads must have scattered into places she couldn't reach. Still, if she had wandered far out, then none of this would really matter. I'd still have to account for her attitude – of which I didn't really have a clue about – as well as the possibility that she was in the ocean when the beads fell apart.

Or not – the cord's dry and stiff.

"Are you alright?" Mori asks, without any warning.

I jump. "Mori- _senpai_. Yes."

"…One of them broke this," he surmises, shifting to shield me from the sun.

"If I could find the rest of the beads, I could fix this," I say.

He nods. "Where do we start?"

"I couldn't ask you to," I rush to say. "You've got your–"

"I'm here," Mori says, voice low and sincere. Earnest eyes trailing down to the wilting collar of my blouse. "Where do we start?"

"Well…" I turn, stepping back and looking along the coastline. "Kyoya- _san._ He'll know where everyone was."

* * *

Kyoya, as it turns out, is not omniscient. Mori tells me softly, lightly, that Kyoya is partially there – he has photographs of Haruhi from her younger days. We wind up heading for the rockier areas of the beach, following the glittering trail of sand and amused rocks. There's a small slope leading up to a cliff, and we decide to search around the area before moving up. Mori picks up a shard, sets it down, and bends over to inspect another. Satisfied, he shows a particularly round pebble to me.

"Mori- _senpai_?"

"It's smooth," he says, running a finger over its surface.

"That's a good rock," I say.

Mori grunts, spares the pebble another glance, and then skips it out into the ocean. I blink, straightening up immediately.

"Why did you throw it out?" I pause. "I thought you liked it."

He shakes his head. "It was good for skipping."

I look at where the good rock had once traversed. A quick plop in the vastness of the open sea. Free. Or, as a nagging feeling of regret would have it, _wasted_.

"It's gone now," I say.

"It is."

I bite down on my lip. "It- I thought you were going to keep it."

"Pick a rock," he says.

"What?"

He squats, solemnly examining each of the grey little mounds by the sand. And looks at me, an invitation. I mirror him, moving over to inspect the same little rocks as he is. Mori picks one up, sets it down, and takes another up.

"Pick a rock," he urges, though his concentration never quite deviates.

"Um," I say, complying anyway.

They're all different, close-up. All freckled and speckled, marred in stunningly complex ways. If I squint or tilt my head, they wind up all glittery, like some fairy tale aftermath. I settle for a purplish-grey one with white vein-like stripes. Mori nods in acknowledgment or some affirmation of my pebble.

"It's a good rock," I say, instinctively protective.

"Okay," Mori nods, and shows his hand. He's got another round, smooth pebble. This one has three white dots in a triangle.

"Don't throw it," I blurt. "Skip it."

"Why?"

"I don't know," I say, too quick and too irate. "I know there's a lot of nice rocks here, but."

Mori blinks, slow, and then, "Let's exchange rocks."

I frown, "Promise me you won't skip it?"

"I promise," he says, trying not to smile. "Really."

He places his pebble in my hand, carefully folding my fingers over its grainy surface. Shallowly, I slip away, turning the gift over. His hand lingers, and I trade my gem into his steady hold.

His gaze doesn't leave my hand, flickers up once to meet mine. And then pockets it.

I blink, and reassign myself to the sparkling tides in the distance. The sea gasps, salty and cool, glimmering against my cheeks. Like diamonds. I struggle to name the shallow, jittering thing in my chest, coming up with nothing. It's almost as though the horizon is just within reach, and to chase after this gentle bliss is a well-endeavoured misfortune.

Mori stays silent, and we continue searching after the impossible. It doesn't take long before Hana is recruited on our journey, Kitagawa's straw hat wrangled in her hands as she rambles about the logistical impossibility of a twin-cinematic production. Finally, she relents, succumbing perhaps to the quiet, patient query from Mori and me.

"Yuuka, is this it?" she suggests, dropping to a squat and picking out a gleaming, pinkish bead. "Oh. There're more of them up here."

I nod. "That's them."

She bites her lip. "Nice."

Hana stands awkwardly, glancing at Mori.

"Hana, let's head up." I turn back to Mori, whose shadow is casting a long, misshapen line in the sand, parting us. "Thank you for your help, we can take it from here."

He nods. Before I can catch myself, Hana is tugging me up the cliff, grip urgent and worried. Her eyes flit across the foreseeable landscape, and shudders against the colder gust.

So I ask the first question on my mind, "Where's Sora- _san_?"

"She wou-couldn't make it."

"Hana."

Hana pouts, her face delicately scrunched into something like annoyance, and then – crumples into poorly-shaded despair. She presses a hand against the hard, tense fit of her jaw, breathing too evenly. Swallowing, Hana pulls away, trailing over to the harsher edges of the cliff.

"She's been –" Hana rephrases. "I don't see her much now."

"Why not?" I say, walking over. "Hana, whatever it is, it's clearly bothering you."

She squirms, arms folding over each other quickly. "You didn't notice it, did you. You notice everything."

"I don't notice everything," I say.

Hana sighs. "Never mind. _Look_ , aren't these all your beads –"

"Did you have a fight with Sora- _san_?"

"No."

I open my mouth to speak, but Hana's got a finger up, as she examines the information she can divulge. I let her take her time, squatting over to pick up another culpable, shiny bead.

"Have you heard of a Mizuha Financial Group?"

"You mean Sora- _san_ 's family?" I backpedal. "No, wait, that's Mitsuha."

"It's the same. It's all the same – ughh."

Hana pinches her lips together, exhaling lightly. And then she's huffing, plopping down ungracefully on the sand. She squeals, evidently having sat on something, and clumsily shuffling over. It's another bead.

"I guess this can't be used anymore," Hana bemoans, cupping the glass bead in her hands, scrutinising. "Kitagawa's such a bitch."

"Hana," I warn, kneeling beside her cautiously.

"She was laughing, saying you were searching here like a fool," Hana pouts, tucking her knees towards her chest. "I bet you she lost this on purpose."

"Kitagawa- _san_?" I repeat. "Laughing."

Hana's sharp as always. "No one else was around, don't worry. There's no way she'd risk dragging the Hitachiins in with you – not yet."

I sigh at her little show of pettiness; well-earned, but Hana can be a spendthrift at times. "Hana, tell me you didn't do anything to her."

"No more than necessary," she grins generously, faltering slightly when she glances down at the shoreline. "Ah."

"Hm?"

Hana pops up, reverting to her cheerful persona as she waves. "Haruhi!"

I blink, lazily leaning over to see Haruhi trudging down the path, bucket in hand. She waves back, a broad smile of contentment. Easy, loosely, she's calling out a warning of some kind. Hana hollers back that she can't quite hear, with equal fervour, flashing a thumbs up.

"She's coming up," Hana says, stilted.

There's something about the tenseness of her shoulders, like she's about to bolt, that makes me reach out. I clasp a hand over her wrist. Bony; strength and weakness in a taut line.

"Hana, you have me."

Her face is shaded – backlit against the waning sun. A golden halo teeters capriciously around her head, elbows tinted bronze in the warning glow. Hana pauses, stuck in her indecision.

"Oh, look, what do we have here?"

"It's a couple of chicks!"

Leery, muscled men pace up the slope, hunched over and hands-in-pockets. The graphic-shirts-turned-singlets spritely distressed in appropriate intervals hanging stiffly off them. They don't look like they _belong_. I place myself in front of Hana, drawing myself to my full height. It's not much, but it will gather us some time before Haruhi comes.

"Oh? Wouldn't you like some company?" one of them slurs, deliberately drawling as he strides forward.

Hopefully Mori hasn't gone too far off either. Maybe he's with Haruhi. "No, please leave us alone."

Hana's fists find their way into the back of my shirt.

"That won't do," the one behind him jeers, sneaking around the side to flank us.

I reach behind me, feeling for Hana. Her hands are clammy. I focus, willing the blurriness to vanish. If I distract the one in front, we could make a run for it. We could, if I could just _see_ –

"This is a private beach," Hana musters up – more to herself than anything. "The Ootori police were here –"

Something lunges for us. Hana shrieks. Drags me down, burrows in the square of my chest. It's hard to breathe. Squashed. Sand gathers around my knees. The two loom over us, shadows distorted by cracks in the landscape. My hands are weak. I fumble around in the - that's it - _sand_.

"Hana, we have to run," I whisper into her hair, dropping the beads and gathering as much sand as I can. "Hana, I'm here."

She's frozen. Shit. My aim won't be good now, I don't think I can even lift my arm too much.

"Y'all look real cute too," hands-in-pockets echoes haltingly.

The other, cued in, leans over – I swing, as hard as I can afford –

"AH! DAMMIT!"

He's bent over, clutching his eye in pain. I think I got some in his mouth too. Heaving, I haul Hana up. She's a petite girl, but with my disused body and her holding her breath in, there's not much we can do. The other, shocked but unaffected by the blast of sand, catches up too quickly.

Argh! My head, yanked cruelly, spins. Hana falls to her knees, a mass of tanned skin indistinguishable from the ground. The world flickers black, stinging back into focus unequally.

"Get the Kobayashi girl, you idiot!" he yells, nails digging into my scalp. "This one's fainting."

"Shit, my eye," the other grumbles, but recovers quickly.

He strides across, all pretence fading – with practiced efficiency, he knocks her out. The discrepancy between his clean movements and the previous episode of delinquency is much too jarring. I gasp.

 _Kobayashi. They know Hana's name._

There's a clatter, and then

"Get away from them!" Haruhi yells, bucket overturned in her hands.

Clean-moves guy snaps back into character, sneering arrogantly. He swats away the shells, stepping over Hana's body and grabbing Haruhi by her sweatshirt. She struggles, kicking at his shins uselessly. Clean-moves considers the situation for a moment, as the one grabbing onto my hair yells frantic commands –

 _Hana. Hana's name._

"Mori-" I croak, and then, louder, "Mori- _senpai_! Here!"

Recognition, and fear colours his voice. He slaps a hand over my face – tight. "Dude, we need to get out of here."

Something must stir in clean-moves; he drags Haruhi to the cliff's edge. "Ocean. They're coming this way."

"Shit." He jerks me forward. "What about this one?"

"Down."

The last I remember is a frazzle of shouts, the ragdoll limpness of my body, soles and ankles dragged against harsh, hot rubble. And then, lightness so unbearable

plunging

into bruising cold.

* * *

 **AN:** Reviews are greatly appreciated!


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